No. 


Fron 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


vV.r/.'    Lilinii-i/.     , 


y.     r -  _ 


SE 
book 
Legi 
any] 
shall 
times 


register  of  all 
icmbers  of  the 
be  session.  If 
ic  Library,  he 
Library,  three 
tne  controller  sdall  issue  his  warrant 


in  favor  of  any  member  or  officer  of  the  Legislature,  or  of  this  State,  for 
his  per  diem,  allowance,  or  salary,  he  shall  be  satisfied  that  such  member 
or  officer  has  returned  all  books  taken  out  of  the  Library  by  him,  and  has 
settled  all  accounts  for  injuring  such  books  or  otherwise. 

SEC.  15.  Books  may  be  taken  from  the  Library  by  the  members  of  the 
Legislature  and  its  officers  during  the  session  of  the  same,  and  at  any  time 
by  the  Governor  and  the  officers  of  the  Executive  Department  of  this  State 
who  are  required  to  keep  their  offices  at  the  seat  of  government,  the 
Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  Attorney-General  and  the  Trustees  of 
the  Library. 


HESTER  STRONG'S  LIFE  WORK; 


THE    MYSTEKY    SOLVED. 


BY 

MRS.    S.    A.    SOUTHWORTH, 

AUTHOB  OF  "LAWRENCE  MONKOE,"  ETC. 


''Life  is  only  bright  when  it  proccedeth 
Toward  a  truer,  deeper  light  above; 
Unman  love  is  sweetest  when  it  leadeth 
To  a  more  divine  and  perfect  love." 


BOSTON: 

N  3D      S  H  E  1?  A. 

1870. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 

LEE   AND  -SHEPARD, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


STEREOTYPED   AT   TH« 

Boiton    Stereotype   Foundry, 
No.  10  Spring  Lane. 


PS 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEB  PAGE 

I.    The  Loverings  and  their  Friends.        .  .  .9 

II.     Life  and  its  Changes.     .  .  .  .  .18 

III.  Sad  Scenes  at  the  Small  House.          .  .  .31 

IV.  The  Pain  and  its  Cure.  —  The  Confession  and  Revul- 

sion. .  .  .  .  •  .42 

V.  Alone  with  the  Dying  and  the  Dead. —  The  Sad  Return.      61 

VI.  What  became  of  the  Children.  —  The  Midnight  Call.       64 

VII.  The  Children's  Prattle.  — The  Wife's  Burden,  or  a 

Synopsis  of  Mr.  Giles.         .  .  .  .73 

VIII.  A  Tragic  Scene  in  Village  Life.           .            .            .83 

IX.  Mr.  Trueman's  Family. — Pleasant  Memories.            .      93 

X.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stillman.  —  A  Domestic  Scene.             .      99 

XI.  Christmas  Morning.  —  Reminiscences  of  the  Past.    .     106 

XII.  The  Christmas  Party — Miss  Patty  Stearns.               .     112 

XIII.  What  Santa  Claus  left.  —  Judith  Lovering's  Advice.     122 

XIV.  Winnie's  Visit,  and  the  Party.  .            .            .128 
XV.  Making  Calls  here  and  there.   ....     136 

XVI.    The  Separation. —The  Aged  Christian's  Death-bed.     143 
XVII.     The  New  Home  and  its  Trial|.  —  Mr.  Wiley's  Family.     151 
XVIII.    The  Good  Shepherd's  Watchfulness.  — The  Disclo- 
sure. —  The  Burial.  ....    162 

(6) 


5  CONTENTS. 

XIX.    Morgan    Lcntell,    or    the   Broken  Web.  —  The 

Accident.  .  .  .  .  .172 

XX.     Mrs.  Giles'  Sickness.  —  Miss   Ann   Thropee,  or 

Sympathy  wasted.  .  .  .  .179 

XXI.     Winnie's    Thoughtfulness.  —  Sunshine   and    her 

Freak.       .  .  .  .  .  .189 

XXII.  Hester's  Visit  to  Mrs.  Giles.  —  Little  Johnnie's 
Death.  —  Kemoval  of  Mrs.  Giles  to  her  Father's 
House.  ......  195 

XXIII.  The  Struggle  and  the  Triumph.  —  The  Council.  — 

Mr.  Giles'  Visit 213 

XXIV.  About  the  Baby.  —  Trouble  upon  Trouble.  —  The 

Proposal.  .  .  .  .  .227 

XXV.    Hester  rescues  the  Baby  from  its  unnatural  Father. 

—  Dr.  Edward's  timely  Arrival.  .  .     233 

XXVI.     Midnight  Musings. —  The  Discovery. —  Conscience 

disturbed.  .....    243 

XXVII.     Passing  Events.  —  Scenes  and  Incidents.  .    251 

XXVIII.     About  Hester's  Call.  —  Winnie's  Talk,  and  Grand- 
pa's Wedding.      .....     258 

XXIX.     Self-Communings.  —  The   Still   Small  Voice.  — 

Light  in  Darkness.  ....     264 

XXX.     Bitter  Memories.  —  Welcome  News.  —  Lore  re- 
warded. —  Elevia  saved.  .  .  .     279 

XXXI.     The  Day  of  Miracles,  or  Mr.  Giles  and  Mr.  Lover- 
ing  made  Friends.  ....    289 

XXXII.     Fostina's  Mission,    .....     304 

XXXIII.  Sunshine  and  Shadows.  —  Deception  unveiled.    .     318 

XXXIV.  Scene    in    a    Factory    Boarding-House.  —  The 

Tempter  foiled.  .  ....    333 


CONTENTS.  7 

XXXV.     Hester's  Faith  rewarded.  —  A  Leap  in  the  Dark 

Deceived  and  deserted.   ....    352 

XXXVI.    Fort  Surater  is  fallen.  —  The  Call  to  Arms.  — 

Weeping  at  the  Village  Depot.  .  .  .368 

XXXVII.    Fostina's  Life  Work  begins.  —  Hester's  Story  of 

her  own  Childhood.          ....    375 

XXXVIII.     Love's  Golden  Key,  or  a  New  Era  in  the  Lentell 

Family.     .  .  .  .  .  .385 

XXXIX.     Uncle  Levi.  —  Sad  Scene  at  the  Supper  Table.  — 

The  Noble  Wreck.  .  .  .  .396 

XL.    Elida's  Visit.  —  The   Soldier's  Funeral,  or  the 

Laurel  Wreath.    .  .  .  .  .411 

XLI.  Our  last  Call  on  the  different  Families  in  our 
World.  —  Harmony's  dying  Wish  accomplished, 
her  Faith  rewarded,  or  the  Conclusion  of  the 
whole  Matter.  .  ,  429 


HESTER  STRONG'S  LIFE  WORK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  LOVERINGS  AND  THEIR  FRIENDS. 

JUST  on  the  outskirts  of  one  of  New  England's  most 
enterprising  cities,  the  Levering  farm-house  has  stood 
for  at  least  a  century.  The  old  house  was  kept  in  ex- 
cellent order,  and  in  process  of  time  the  shed  roof  on  the 
back  side  was  raised,  and  a  porch  added,  to  make  room 
for  the  third  and  fourth  generations.  Three  tally  trim 
poplars  stood  sentinel  in  front  of  the  house  ;  a  maple  at 
one  end  ;  a  Balm  of  Gilead  spread  its  leaves  and  shed 
its  healing  buds  at  the  other  end,  shading  the  porch 
door.  Just  over  the  way,  on  a  gentle  eminence,  stood 
the  corn-barn,  ample  in  dimensions,  and  under  it  the 
cider  mill  and  storehouse  for  farming  utensils,  with 
bench  and  tools  for  repairing.  On  this  bench  the  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren  (little  ones,  I  mean)  used  to  sit, 
and  watch  the  apples  fall  into  the  hopper ;  while  Old 
Tom,  the  family  horse,  went  round  and  round,  with  his 
sleepy  eyes  half  shut,  a  miracle  of  patience  and  docility. 

It  was  an  important  epoch  in  the  life  of  each  succeed- 
ing child  when  he  or  she  was  taken  down  from  the  car- 

(9) 


10  IIESTEK    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOIIK. 

penter's  bench,  and  assigned  some  post  of  honor  about 
the  cider  mill.  Just  back  of  the  house,  at  the  left,  stood 
a  capacious  barn,  with  all  the  conveniences  necessary  on 
a  large  farm,  even  to  the  "little  yard,"  as  it  was  called, 
especially  for  milking.  But  the  pleasantest,  the  most 
delightful  spot  on  all  the  premises,  was  the  "  river  road," 
or  cart  path,  which  led  from  the  barn  through  well-cul- 
tivated fields,  under  fruit  and  other  trees,  down  even  to 
the  smooth,  sweet  waters  of  the  Merrimac.  Dear  old 
river  !  How  the  young  people  loved  it !  What  moonlight, 
morning  and  midday  walks'  they  used  to  take,  back  and 
forth  !  If  there  is  magic  in  music,  so  there  was  magic  in 
the  moonbeams  as  they  fell  upon  the  bosom  of  the 
sparkling  water,  and  came  dancing  and  flickering  to  you 
through  the  silver  leaves  of  a  cluster  of  willows  which 
stood  just  at  tho  right  hand  of  the  terminus  of  the  river 
road.  Beneath  these  willows  were  rustic  seats,  placed 
there  many  years  agone,  by  young,  brave  hands,  which 
are  now  folded  over  the  silent  bosom  of  a  weary  sleeper, 
who  is  resting  in  the  village  burial-ground.  Of  these 
willows  we  shall  speak  again.  About  half  a  mile  down 
the  river,  and  farther  from  its  sloping  banks,  Nathan 
Sharp  built  a  small,  inconvenient  house  ;  married,  and 
made  it  the  business  of  his  life  to  get  rich  ;  ignoring  all 
refinement  of  manners,  all  adornment  of  his  person  or 
premises,  and  despising  "  book  larnin',"  as  lie  called  it ; 
counting  no  labor  too  hard  that  would  pay  well.  Ilis 
worldly  goods  increased,  as  well  as  his  family,  until  he 
cuuld  count  more  acres  than  Mr.  Lovering  ;  had  inure 
cattle  crowded  into  his  little  shabby  barn,  more  chil- 
dren in  his  inconvenient,  uninviting  house,  and  more 
money.  He  was  satisfied,  —  as  much  so  as  a  selfish, 


TUE    LOVEKINGS    AND    THEIR    FRIENDS.  11 

narrow  nature  can  be.  Money  was  his  idol ;  work,  his 
pride  and  boast.  Mehitable,  the  eldest  daughter,  wa8 
her  father's  exact  counterpart,  except  in  one  item  — 
she  was  neat  and  orderly,  even  to  a  fault. 

Mr.  Manlie,  an  educated  gentleman,  lived  at  the  village 
about  two  miles  from  the  Loverings.  His  wife  was  a 
pleasant,  cultivated  lady,  so  that  their  children  enjoyed 
excellent  advantages,  and  were  every  way  worthy  of 
their  parents.  Horace  Manlie,  while  a  medical  student, 
became  engaged  to  Miss  Hester  Strong,  an  adopted 
daughter  of  the  Loverings.  Between  these  two  families 
there  had  always  existed  a  firm  friendship,  which  ripened 
into  a  warm  and  permanent  attachment.  So  when  the 
eldest  sou  of  Mr.  Lovering  asked  timidly  for  the  hand  of 
Mary  Manlie,  it  was  cheerfully  bestowed.  This  connec- 
tion was  pleasant  to  all  who  had  a  right  to  be  concerned, 
if  the  different  members  of  Mr.  Sharp's  family  did  proph- 
esy evil,  and  that  continually.  Mary  and  Hester  had 
long  been  as  sisters,  and  now  they  felt  that  they  were 
sisters  indeed,  as  they  were  in  affection. 

Both  were  looking  eagerly  forward  to  the  time  when 
Horace  should  complete  his  studies,  and  cement  the  bond 
of  union  between  them.  They  spent  many  happy  hours 
in  talking  over  their  future  plans,  their  hopes  and  bright 
anticipations,  little  dreaming  that  a  net  was  even  then 
being  spread  by  envious,  artful  hands,  which  would 
change  their  plans,  and  bring  sorrow,  ay,  anguish,  to 
many  hearts.  Mehitable  Sharp  had  some  claims  to 
beauty  of  face  and  figure.  She  was  of  medium  height, 
fair  complexion,  blue  eyes,  rosy  lips,  and  very  sprightly. 
With  oilier  training,  and  dill'erent  influences,  she  might 
have  been  u  noble  woman.  But  as  it  was,  all  the  good 


12  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

aspirations  of  her  ardent  nature  were  crushed  out,  all  the 
envy  and  avarice  of  her  heart  were  cultivated. 

Her  girlish  fancy  first  fastened  upon  Charles  Levering ; 
and  she  lost  no  opportunity  to  cultivate  his  acquaintance, 
and  went  into  many  extravagances  in  dress  in  order  to 
captivate  him.  But  in  vain.  His  true,  noble  heart 
found  its  mate  in  Mary  Manlie,  and  he  bore  her  to  his 
home  joyfully  in  spite  of  hints  and  unpleasant  innuendoes 
thrown  out  by  Miss  Sharp.  About  the  time  of  his  mar- 
riage, she  was  accidentally  thrown  from  her  horse  very 
near  Mr.  Manlie's.  She  was  conveyed  to  the  house, 
treated  with  the  politeness  and  attention  her  situation 
demanded,  and  then  carried  to  her  home  by  Horace, 
who  was  spending  his  vacation  at  his  father's.  The 
young  lady  was  charmed  with  the  fine  person  and  agree- 
able manners  of  the  student,  and  wished,  in  her  inmost 
heart,  she  could  win  him  for  herself.  Instinctively,  she 
saw  how  hopeless  the  task  while  in  her  present  circum- 
stances ;  the  difference  between  them,  intellectually  arid 
morally,  was  too  great ;  but  she  used  all  the  arts  she 
was  mistress  of  to  interest  him.  She  was  brilliant, 
pleasant,  and  witty.  He  looked  upon  her  as  one  who 
had  been  neglected,  and  sought  to  lead  her  into  new 
channels  of  thought,  to  stimulate  her  to  cultivate  her 
mind  and  heart.  And  after  this  he  often  called  at  her 
home  when  passing,  on  his  way  to  visit  Hester.  His 
prejudice  against  the  family  was  not  so  great  as  that  of 
his  parents  and  sisters,  because  he  had  seldom  come  in 
contact  with  them  since  quite  young. 

His  mother  warned  him  that  he  would  see  trouble  if 
he  made  so  much  of  the  girl. 

"0,  I  think  not,"  was  the  reply.     "  I  am  trying  to 


THE    LOVEKINGS    AND    THEIE    FRIENDS.  13 

bring  her  out,  to  make  something  of  her.  She  feels  her 
deficiencies  sadly.  Hester  approves  of  my  course.  She 
pities  her  sincerely." 

"  She  must  have  changed,"  said  his  sister  Martha. 
"  She  used  to  despise  learning,  and  make  sport  of  you, 
and  all  educated  people." 

"  Well,  that  was  when  she  was  young  and  thoughtless," 
was  the  reply.  "  She  told  me  she  did.  I  am  going  to 
lend  her  some  books  ;  and,  Martha,  I  wish  you  would  join 
me  in  the  good  work  of  bringing  this  young  girl  up  out 
of  the  slough  of  ignorance  in  spite  of  her  parents." 
The  student  returned  to  his  studies  with  buoyant,  hopeful 
spirits.  His  affections  had  never  wavered  from  his  first 
and  only  love,  no,  not  for  a  moment.  But  into  Hester's 
heart  had  finally  entered  a  vague"  doubt,  a  nameless  fear, 
a  secret  and  scarcely  recognized  pain.  Soon  his  letters 
became  less  frequent :  she  made  no  complaint,  but  her 
step  became  less  elastic,  her  voice  more  silent ;  she  was 
changed.  When  he  chided  her  gently  for  her  remissness 
in  writing  to  him,  she  smiled  almost  bitterly,  and  strove 
to  still  the  throbbing  of  her  wounded  heart,  little  dream- 
ing that  the  perfidy  of  another  had  robbed  her  of  those 
tokens  of  remembrance  which  she  so  much  craved.  Had 
either  of  them  been  less  patient  and  uncomplaining,  the 
artful  web  which  was  being  woven  about  them  might 
easily  have  been  broken,  and.  all  would  have  been 
well.  As  Mary  sat  writing  to  Horace  one  day,  Hester 
said,  — 

"Are  you  writing  to  Horace?"  "Yes,  dear,"  was 
the  reply.  "  May  I  put  in  a  note  to  him  ?  I  do  not 
feel  able  to  write  much."  She  wrote  and  sealed  these 
fatal  words  :  — 


14  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Horace,  our  engagement  is  at  an  end,  and  forever. 
Seek  not  to  see  me  until  we  can  both  talk  calmly  of  the 
past  and  its  broken*  vows.  Farewell. 

"  Ever  your  friend,  '    HESTER  STRONG." 

As  she  handed  the  sealed  note  to  Mary,  she  sank  back 
in  her  chair  pale  and  exhausted,  crushed  and  broken- 
hearted. 

"  Hester,"  said  Mary,  "  what  is  it  ?  Why  will  you 
not  tell  me  ?  Surely  you  do  not  attach  any  importance 
to  that  rumor  about  his  engagement  to  Mchitable  Sharp  ? 
You  should  know  Horace  better  than  that.  I  have  not 
even  mentioned  it  to  him.  He  would  be  offended.  I 
knew  he  would  be  here  soon,  and  then  the  cloud  would 
pass.  Cheer  up,  darling,  or  I  shall  laugh  at  you." 
Hester  tried  to  speak,  but  her  lips  were  mute.  She 
wanted  to  tell  her,  now  that  the  letter  had  gone,  of  all 
that  she  had  seen  and  heard  ;  of  the  letter  she  had  been 
allowed  to  partially  read  ;  of  the  strong  professions  of 
love  he  had  lavished  on  one  so  unworthy  of  him  ;  of  his 
great  joy  that  the  time  of  his  release  from  an  irksome 
duty  was  so  near  at  hand,  and  the  full  fruition  of  enjoy- 
ment so  soon  to  come.  But  she  could  not  pain  the  fond 
heart  of  her  more  than  sister  by  the  recital  of  her  broth- 
er's faithlessness. 

No,  she  could  not  call  it  that ;  it  was  a  strange  fatality 
that  had  separated  them,  hard  to  bear,  harder  to  under- 
stand. Days  passed  :  all  the  friends  looked  for  Horace 
with  the  greatest  anxiety,  feeling  sure  that  he  could  ex- 
plain all,  and  bring  the  old  smile  back  to  Hester's  face, 
joy  to  her  heart,  and  light  to  her  eyes,  which  were  now 
dull  with  weeping.  But  instead  came  kind,  affectionate 


THE    LOVERINGS    AND    THEIR    FRIENDS.  15 

letters  to  all  but  her  he  loved  most  and  best.      Hers 
read,  — 

"  Hester,  I  accept  the  freedom  you  have  so  freely  given 
roe,  and  its  conditions.  We  will  not  meet  until  you  wish 
it.  I  should  have  been  better  prepared  for  the  cruel 
blow  you  have  given  me,  but  I -was  slow  to  believe  what 
our  mutual  friend,  Mehitable  Sharp,  so  hesitatingly  told 
me.  And  when  you  neglected  to  answer  my  earnest 
letters  of  devoted  attachment,  I  should  have  believed, 
but  I  could  riot,  0,  I  could  not!  But  when  my  last, 
eager,  hopeful  letter  was  returned  unopened,  and  my 
sister's  letter  came  to  hand,  containing  your  cold,  cruel 
renunciation  of  me,  my  heart  grew  sick,  and  my  very 
soul  faint,  with  the  bitter  disappointment  of  its  most 
cherished  hopes.  Farewell.  To-morrow  I  shall  be  far 
away  from  all  I  have  counted  dear  ;  a  restless  wanderer 
to  —  I  know  not  where. 

"  Ever  your  friend,  HORACE  MANLIE." 

Weeks  and  months  passed  away  before  Horace  Manlie 
was  again  heard  from.  His  unexpected  departure,  Hes- 
ter's tears,  all,  all  was  a  painful  mystery  to  the  family 
and  friends.  All  that  they  could  do  to  cheer  and  sustain 
Hester  they  cheerfully  did,  although  their  own  hearts 
were  sore  and  sad.  At  length  letters  came  containing 
his  address.  If  Hester  had  been  hasty  in  dismissing  her 
lover,  she  now  hastened  to  confess  her  fault.  She  wrote 
to  him  of  all  her  doubts  and  fears,  her  painful  suspense, 
of  all  she  had  seen  and  heard,  closing  with  the  words, 
"  Horace,  my  dearest  and  best  beloved,  come  home.  I 
shall  never  be  happy  till  I  hear  from  your  own  lips  that 
I  am  forgiven." 


16  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

Letters  came  and  went,  the  light  came  again  to  Hes- 
ter's eyes,  the  smiles  to  her  lips,  and  yet  something  of 
the  old  buoyancy  had  gone.  Hester  was  wiser  now.  It 
was  sweet  to  be  reconciled  and  at  peace  with  her  heart's 
chosen  one,  but  the  time  seemed  long,  very  long  to  wait. 
Horace  had  engaged  himself  as  tutor  for  three  years. 
He  had  the  privilege  of  attending  medical  lectures  in  one 
of  the  best  of  schools.  He  must  fulfil  his  engagements, 
he  wrote,  though  the  heavens  fall.  Very  soon  after  the 
mysterious  departure  of  Horace  Manlie,  Mehitable  Sharp 
married  Morgan  Lentell,  a  distant  connection  of  the 
family.  There  was  quite  a  disparity  in  their  ages,  as 
well  as  dispositions.  He  was  fine-looking  and  amiable, 
but  not  very  energetic.  He  made  a  home  for  his  wife 
on  a  farm  (rented,  at  first)  about  seven  miles  from  her 
father's.  Her  outfit,  although  not  elegant  or  extensive, 
was  perfectly  satisfactory  ;  as  Mrs.  Lentell  had,  like  her 
father,  a  supreme  contempt  for  the  beautiful  or  the  orna- 
mental. But  more  than  all  things  else  she  prized  her 
spinning-wheel,  reel,  and  loom.  Poverty  stood  sentinel 
at  their  humble  door  for  several  years,  but  he  was 
bravely  met  and  conquered.  Mrs.  Lentell  was,  indeed, 
the  more  shrewd  and  capable  of  the  two,  and  acted  well 
her  part  as  far  as  the  accumulation  of  property  was  con- 
cerned. The  rest  we  will  leave  our  readers  to  learn  as 
our  story  progresses. 

The  Loverings  and  the  Manlies  had  never  been  on 
terms  of  intimacy  with  the  Sharp  family.  But  since 
they  had  proclaimed  to  the  world  that  Horace  Manlie 
had  broken  his  engagement  with  Mehitable,  and  fled 
through  fear  of  the  Loverings,  there  had  been  no  com- 
munication between  them.  They  met  and  passed  each 


THE    LOVERINGS    AND    THEIR    FEIENDS.  1Y 

other  without  recognition.  So  that  when,  two  years 
after,  the  emaciated  form  of  the  gifted  young  man  was 
borne  to  his  childhood's  home  to  die,  and  Hester,  patient, 
faithful  ilester,  watched  tenderly  over  him,  there  were 
no  prying  eyes  or  curious  ears  to  disturb  the  mournful 
pleasure  of  those  few  remaining  days.  None. knew  how 
much  they  suffered,  nor  how  much  they  enjoyed,  except 
the  immediate  family  and  friends.  And  as  the  flickering 
light  of  that  beautiful,  manly  life  went  out,  and  they  laid 
their  beloved  dead  in  the  churchyard  near  at  hand,  the 
two  families  drew  nearer  and  nearer  together,  forming  a 
circle,  as  it  were,  around  Hester,  the  stricken,  smitten 
one,  as  if  to  shield  her  from  the  sorrow  which  had 
fallen  so  heavily  upon  them,  —  but  with  a  more  crush- 
ing weight  on  her. 

"  It  is  all  a  painful  mystery,"  they  said;  "  who  shall 
fathom  it  ?  A  deep,  deep  wound  ;  who  but  the  Infinite 
One  can  heal  it  ?  "  It  was  there  Ilester  looked  ;  and 
after  months  of  weary,  prostrating  sickness,  she  came 
forth  calmly,  and  serenely  took  up  the  burden  of  life, 
consecrating  herself  to  God,  and  devoting  her  time  and 
talents  —  all  —  to  the  work  of  ministering  to  the  sick 
and  suffering  of  earth. 

And,  verily,  she  will  not  lose  her  reward. 
2 


18  HESTE1J    STKOXG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER     II. 

. 

LIFE    AND    ITS    CHANGES. 

TWENTY-FIVE  years  had  not  passed  over  the  families, 
which  we  have  introduced  to  our  readers,  without  making 
great  and  important  changes.  The  dear  old  father  and 
mother  of  Charles  and  Mary  Lovering,  after  years  of 
patient  waiting,  passed  on  to  the  reward  of  the  righteous, 
blessing  God  for  the  gift  of  such  kind  and  devoted  chil- 
dren, such  loving  and  respectful  grandchildren. 

"  It  is  only  the  fruit  of  your  own  judicious  training," 
Hester,  the  child  of  their  adoption,  used  to  say.  Mary 
Lovering  had  -found  her  a  source  of  never-failing  comfort 
and  help.  "  What  should  we  do  without  Hester  ?  "  was 
a  household  word  ;  and  many  other  families  said  and  felt 
the  same.  All  these  years  she  had  been  like  a  minister- 
ing angel  to  the  sick  and  afflicted,  not  only  in  her  own, 
but  often  in  neighboring  towns,  whenever  home  duties 
would  permit. 

"  Mary  and  I  have  six  children,"  she  used  to  say, 
laughingly.  "  I  don't  know  which  loves  them  best.  But 
sometimes  they  think  they  love  their  auntie  a  little  rnite 
the  best,  for  I  never  punish  them."  It  would  be  difficult 
to  imagine  a  more  pleasant  and  joyous  family  circle. 
But  Hester  began  to  say  the  harvest  time  had  arrive:!. 
Olive  was  gathered  into  a  home  nest  of  her  own,  Frank 
next.  Edward  was  at  college.  Charles,  junior,  said  he 


LIFE    AND    ITS    CHANGES.  19 

must  wait  and  look  after  his  lovely  sisters  —  Harmony, 
the  beautiful  pet  lamb  of  the  flock,  and  Elivia,  the  spar- 
kling, brilliant  baby  of  the  household.  Those  were  happy 
days  at  the  farm-house,  as  the  children  gathered  around 
the  ample  fireplace  in  the  large,  old-fashioned  kitchen, 
in  winter,  talking  cheerfully,  reading,  sewing,  or  singing, 
while  the  father  led  with  his  deep,  bass  voice  and  his 
violin.  Martha  Manlie  often  made  one  of  their  number  ; 
for,  like  Hester,  she  had  been  down  into  "  the  valley," 
and  seen  one  nearer  and  dearer  than  life  go  over  the  river 
and  leave  her  standing  alone,  with  life's  blasted  hopes, 
and  sweetest,  fairest  flowers  lying  faded  and  fragrantless 
at  her  weary  feet.  "  0  Hester,  sweet  sister,"  she  used 
to  say  in  the  first  months  of  her  grief,  "  how  is  it  that 
you  are  strong  enough  to  bear  your  own  and  other  peo- 
ple's sorrows  ?  "  But  we  must  pass  hastily  over  these 
events,  and  remain  silent  about  many  things  that  would 
be  of  interest  to  the  reader,  Mr.  Lovering  is  "  grandpa  " 
henceforth,  and  Hester  is  "  aunt  "  to  everybody.  Har- 
mony was  her  especial  darling  —  from  her  striking  re- 
semblance to  her  uncle  Horace.  It  was  but  simple 
justice  to  call  her  beautiful.  She  had  small,  regular 
features,  black,  glossy,  and  very  luxuriant  hair,  and  eyes 
full  of  tenderness,  deep  and  dark.  Her  complexion  was 
very  fair,  with  rosy  cheeks,  a  bewitching  smile,  and  voice 
soft  as  sweetest  music. 

It  was  not  strange,  then,  that  she  who  was  so  much 
admired  at  home  should  be  sought  after,  early  in  life,  to 
bless  and  brighten  another  home.  So  it  was. 

"  Keep  her  in  the  home  nest  closely,  mother,"  grandpa 
used  to  say,  "  or  we  shall  lose  her  too  soon." 

Changes  have  been  wrought  also  in  the  family  of  Me- 


20  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

hitable  S.  Lnntcll.  The  rented  farm  has  been  bought  and 
stocked,  aud  increased  in  size.  She  has  eight  children ; 
three  boys  and  five  girls.  Some  have  married  and  gone 
from  the  din  of  the  loom  and  the  buzz  of  the  wheel. 
Morgan,  the  eldest  son,  is  his  mother's  pride. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  them  Loverings  see  him,"  she 
used  to  think.  He  was,  indeed,  a  noble  specimen  of 
young  athletic  manhood  ;  six  feet  in  height,  well  propor- 
tioned, with  deep-blue  eyes,  brown  hair,  and  comely 
features.  As  he  excelled  in  all  youthful  sports,  he  was 
a  great  favorite  in  his  circle.  He  had  also  his  mother's 
business  talents  ;  so  the  care  and  burden  of  the  farm  fell 
naturally  upon  him.  Mrs.  Lentell  had  grown  prematurely 
old  in  the  race  for  money ;  deep  lines  of  care  were 
marked  on  her  once  comely  features.  In  her  family  she 
reigned  a  sort  of  queen ;  her  word  wsfe  their  only  law. 
Her  house  was  kept  in  order,  and  the  family  were  happy 
in  their  way,  by  due  submission  to  the  ruling  power. 
Mr.  Lentell  was  a  cipher  in  his  own  house.  He  was 
often  reminded  of  his  great  indebtedness  to  his  wife  for 
the  property  he  possessed.  Sickness  and  death  had 
never  entered  their  dwelling.  This  was  owing  to  her 
excellent  management,  she  thought.  She  was  never  sick  ; 
why  should  others  be  ?  Morgan  had  become  a  famous 
rafter  of  wood  and  lumber  to  a  seaport  town  not  very 
distant,  and  in  that  way  brought  much  gold  to  his  moth- 
er's coffers.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  he  was  taken 
suddenly  and  severely  sick.  He  remembered  the  cluster 
of  willows,  the  delightful  road,  and  the  neat  farm-house 
but  a  few  rods  distant.  He  had  often  caught  glimpses 
of  young  men  and  maidens  seated  beneath  the  willows. 
Some  one  might  be  there  now.  If  not,  he  might  reach 


LIFE    AND    ITS    CHANGES.  21 

the  house.  This  thought  nerved  his  arm  till  he  arrived 
at  the  spot.  Two  young  and  very  lovely  girls  were 
seated  there.  He  hesitated  to  accost  them,  but  they 
soon  discovered  his  situation,  and  Harmony  Lo-vering 
stepped  timidly  and  gracefully  forward,  as  she  said,  — 

"  You  are  sick  - —  are  you  not,  sir  ?  My  father's  house 
is  near,  and  my  brother  is  at  work  in  the  next  field. 
Shall  I  call  him  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  do  so,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged, "  was 
the  reply.  "  I  have  never  been  so  sick  before."  Charles 
came  at  his  sister's  call.  He  saw  at  once  that  it  was  a 
case  of  cholera  morbus,  if  not  of  cholera,  but  he  was  too 
generous  to  leave  him  in  this  hour  of  need.  Eli  via  went 
forward  to  inform  the  home  circle,  Harmony  lingered  by 
the  sick  man.  Simple  remedies  soon  relieved  the  symp- 
toms, but  grandp:  prescribed  rest  and  a  cup  of  tea.  By 
that  time  it  was  night.  "  Stop  with  us  till  morning," 
they  all  said,  "  and  take  a  fresh  start."  He  was  nothing 
loath,  for  in  such  a  family  it  would  be  pleasant  to  spend  a 
lifetime.  These,  then,  were  the  Loverings  he  had  heard 
his  mother  speak  of  with  such  bitter  contempt.  Surely 
she  "did  not  know  them.  Was  it  possible  that  Mrs.  Lov- 
ering  was  about  bis  mother's  age  ?  How  young  and  fair 
she  looked  !  And  Hester,  he  had  thought,  was  a  monster  ; 
but  no,  she  was  a  noble-looking  lady,  with  a  calm,  sweet 
face.  And  Harmony  !  Never  before  had  he  seen  or 
dreamed  of  such  a  vision  of  loveliness.  What  a  contrast 
to  his  uncultivated  sister  I  what  a  contrast  in  everything  ! 

"  You  said  your  name  was  Lentell,"  said  grandpa,  at 
the  supper  table.  "  What  was  your  mother's  maiden 
name  ?  " 

"  Meliitablc  Sharp,",  was  the  reply. 


22  HESTER    STKOXG'S    LIFE    WOUK. 

"  Ah  !  indeed,"  said  grandpa.  "  Mary,  you  remember 
her ;  she  used  to  be  neighbor.  They  lived  on  the  place 
where  Mr.  Stearns  lives.  Charles,  they  left  wheu  you 
were  a  baby."  Hester's  keen  eye  rested  on  the  young 
man's  face  for  a  moment,  wondering  if  this  noble-looking, 
agreeable  young  man  could  be  the  son  of  her  youthful 
enemy.  Was  he  like  her  ?  She  felt  uneasy  and  anxious. 
Her  quick  eye  had  seen  the  glances  of  bashful  admiration 
pass  between  Morgan  and  Harmony,  and  that  the  two 
would  be  fitly  mated  so  far  as  beauty -was  concerned. 
But,  like  one  of  old,  she  queried,  "  Can  any  good  thing 
come  out  of  Nazareth  ?  "  Reader,  this  was  but  the 
beginning  of  the  end  of  my  story.  The  visits  of  the  son 
of  Mehitable  Sharp  became  frequent,  and  agreeable  to 
Harmony,  at  least.  And  while  sitting  under  the  willows, 
watching  the  moonbeams  dance  and  flicker  in  and  out 
through  the  leaves,  listening  to  the  ardent  professions  of 
devotion  uttered  by  the  rich,  manly  voice  of  Morgan 
Leutcll,  little  Harmony  fell  a  victim  on  the  altar  of  sweet, 
young  love.  She  was  wholly  his.  The  young  man 
soon  won  a  place  in  the  affections  of  the  family,  so  that 
sooner  than  they  intended,  sooner  than  their  judgment 
dictated,  they  consented  to  part  with  their  darling.  Hes- 
ter remonstrated  when  she  found  Harmony  was  to  board 
with  her  husband's  mother.  But  all  in  vain. 

"  It  will  only  be  for  a  short  time,"  was  the  reply  ; 
"just  long  enough  for  them  to  build."  This  silenced, 
but  did  not  convince  her  of  the  wisdom  of  the  plan. 
Mrs.  Lcntell  was  not  pleased  with  her  son's  marriage 
into  a  book  family,  and  that  the  Loverings.  "  AY  hat 
good  is  their  larnin'  going  to  do  'um  ?  "  she  used  to  say. 
"  It  won't  help  'um  hold  a  plough,  or  swing  an  axe,  IT 


LIFE    AND    ITS    CHANGES.  23 

cook  a  dinner,  or  make  a  shirt,  or  darn  a  stockin',  to  say 
nothin'  about  spinnin'  an'  weavinV  But  these  objections 
were  carefully  concealed  from  Harmony  and  her  friends  ; 
fur  Morgan  had  assured  them,  firmly  and  decidedly,  that 
he  should  leave  them,  and  forever,  if  obstacles  were 
thrown  in  the  way  of  his  marriage.  The  old  house  had 
grown  too  small  for  them.  A  new  one  must  be  built 
immediately  ;  and  who  but  he  could  lift  the  mortgage  and 
build  the  house  ?  And  so  the  young,  inexperienced 
child-wife  was  actually  settled  in  their  midst  before  she 
knew  their  prejudices  or  the  real  character  of  the  family. 
But  she  was  soon  made  to  feel  herself  an  intruder  ;  and 
the  future  opened  out  before  her  like  a  dark,  dreary  wil- 
derness, with  just  one  light  to  illumine  the  darkness  — 
the  ardent  love  of  her  husband.  This,  she  thought,  would 
always  be  left  to  cheer  her.  Her  affectionate,  trustful 
nature  clung  to  its  first  and  only  love,  never  dreaming  that 
what  had  seemed  to  her  so  sacred  and  pure,  so  much  like 
heaven,  could  ever  be  covered  up  or  blotted  out  by  the 
blight  and  mildew  of  sin.  She  did  not  see  the  terrible 
monster  that  was  winding  his  hideous  folds  around  the 
noble  form  of  her  husband,  paralyzing  both  body  and 
mind.  She  was  used  to  seeing  the  wine-cup  passed 
around  in  her  father's  house,  but  intoxication  she  had 
never  seen  ;  to  real  intemperance  she  was  a  stranger. 
She  knew  not  that  her  husband's  feet  were  even  then 
ready  to  slip,  and  that  he  was  being  goaded  on  by  the 
perplexing  cares  arid  conflicting  influences  which  sur- 
rounded him.  Poor  child,  she  did  not  know  the  power  of 
the  intoxicating  cup,  or  of  a  strong-minded,  managing 
mother  over  a  son  taught  from  childhood  to  obey.  At 
first,  Morgan  defended  his  young  wife  from  tlic  insulting 


24  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

treatment  of  his  mother  and  sister  and  two  younger 
brothers.  The  elder  sisters,  being  married  and  well 
settled  in  life,  received  her  kindly,  and  treated  her  with 
respect. 

He  astonished  them  all  one  day  by  informing  them  that 
he  had  entered  into  an  engagement  with  an  aged  widow  in 
the  neighborhood,  to  take  a  deed  of  her  property,  giv- 
ing a  bond  for  her  proper  care  and  support.  That  was 
a  terrible  blow  to  them,  as  Mr.  Lentell  had  become  dis- 
abled for  active  labor  by  a  fall,  and  was  depending  on 
his  son  to  pay  up  the  debts,  build  the  new  house,  and 
take  care  of  them  in  their  old  age.  He,  from  the  first, 
had  treated  the  young  wife  with  respect  and  tenderness, 
and  had  often  been  pained  by  the  cold,  unkind  treatment 
she  received  in  his  house,  especially  by  the  bitter  taunts  of 
his  wife  ;  but  he  was  powerless  to  improve  her  condition. 

"  I  don't  blame  you,  Morgan/'  was  his  only  reply 
when  his  son  made  known  his  decision  ;  "  I  can't  blame 
you,  but  God  only  knows  what  will  become  of  us."  And 
the  tears  fell  slowly  down  those  patient  cheeks. 

His  mother  was  silent  and  sullen,  attributing  it  all  to 
his  marriage  with  a  good-for-nothing  Lovering. 

He  would  be  sorry  before  long,  beg  her  pardon,  and 
come  back  on  her  own  terms.  She  was  sure  he  would 
never  get  on  with  such  a  slack,  shiftless  wife.  "She 
didn't  know  a  distaff  from  a  reel  when  she  come  here,  to 
say  nothin'  about  spinnin'  an'  weavin'  ;  "  and  so  she  let 
them  go,  apparently  well  pleased.  She  was  mistaken. 
Harmony  was  young,  far  loo  young  to  assume  the  duties 
of  housekeeping,  being  on\y  sixteen  at  her  marriage  ;  the 
consent  of  her  parents  being  gained  only  by  the  assur- 
ance of  Morgan  that  she  should  be  a  boarder  in  his  fa- 


LIFE    AND   ITS    CHANGES.  25 

ther's  family,  without  care,  till  matured  both  in  strength 
and  judgment.  But  the  kind,  motherly  instructions  of 
the  aged  widow  enabled  her  to  succeed  better  than 
might  have  been  expected.  She  bade  fair  to  make  an 
excellent  housekeeper.  She  often  referred  to  this  period 
as  the  two  happiest  years  of  her  life. 

By  that  time  Mrs.  Mehitable  Sharp  Lentell  began  to 
fear  that  her  son  would  not  return  like  the  Prodigal  of 
old.  She  saw  that  she  was  losing  her  power  over  him. 
The  farm,  in  spite  of  many  days'  labor  bestowed  on  it  by 
Morgan,  junior,  was  running  down  ;  the  debts  were  not 
being  paid,  nor  the  new  house  built.  She  changed  her  tac- 
tics at  once,  and  by  a  series  of  skilful  manoeuvres,  by 
prayers  and  tears,  warnings  and  entreaties,  caused  him 
to  break  his  engagement  with  the  widow  (who  had  been 
as  a  mother  to  him  and  his  wife),  and  return,  like  a  fool 
to  his  folly,  a  little  less  than  a  year  previous  to  her  death  ; 
which  would  have  left  him  in  possession  of  competence 
and  happiness. 

Morgan  Lentell  never  failed  in  obedience  and  respect 
for  his  parents.  That  was  an  overshadowing  influence 
with  him,  while  his  own  family  took  a  secondary  place 
iu  his  thoughts.  He  might  have  had  a  deed  of  all  the 
property  when  he  returned  ;  but  regard  for  their  feelings 
induced  him  to  let  writings  remain  as  they  were,  and 
transact  business  in  his  father's  name,  lending  his  own 
as  security.  Harmony  and  her  three  little  children  spent 
the  summer  at  grandpa  Lovering's  while  the  new  house 
was  in  process  of  erection.  It  was  to  be  large  and  con- 
venient for  two  families ;  therefore  the  confiding  wife 
wove  many  a  fanciful  web  of  happiness  for  lu.-rself  in  the 
future,  i:it<.T\vovei),  more  or  less,  with  dark  forebodings, 


26  IIESTEIl    STUOXG'S    LIKE    WOUK. 

•which  wore  more  than  realized.  Mrs.  Mehitablo  Sharp 
Leutell  was  sagacious  enough  to  have  the  half  she  was 
to  occupy  finished  first,  and  move  into  it.  She  then 
insinuated  that  her  son  might  move  his  family  into  the 
old  house,  until  he  should  be  able  to  finish  the  oilier  part, 
advising  him  not  to  hurry  about  it ;  for,  said  she,  "ilar- 
jnony  won't  have  any  dairy,  and  it  will  be  better  for  you 
to  pay  up  that  note,  that  will  be  due  next  year,  first. 
The  old  house  is  enough  sight  better  than  it  was  when 
your  father  and  I  commenced  housekeeping.  Harmony 
has  got  too  many  notions  now."  Her  parents  were 
opposed  to  her  moving  into  the  old  house.  Indeed,  they 
would  gladly  have  kept  her  with  them  henceforth.  "  Let 
her  stay  where  she  is,"  was  her  father's  reply  to  his  son- 
in-law,  "  till  the  house  is  done  ;  and  I  will  furnish  it  in 
good  style,  if  you  will  only  sign  the  pledge,  my  sen." 

But  Harmony  felt  it  her  duty  to  go  with  her  husband  ; 
BO  they  gave  a  reluctant  consent.  From  that  day  her  vas- 
salage to  her  husband's  mother  was  complete.  Little  by 
little  she  artfully  estranged  the  husband's  ailections,  and 
left  her  heart  an  empty,  aching  void,  with  nothing  to 
bind  her  to  earth  but  the  love  of  her  childhood's  friends  ; 
with  nothing  to  bind  her  to  her  husband  but  the  children 
she  could  not  leave,  and  from  whom  he  would  not  part. 

The  new  house  was  at  length  completed,  and  partially 
furnished,  and  the  family  were  staying  in  it,  when  grand- 
pa Lentell  sickened  and  died  suddenly  while  Morgan 
was  rutting  timber  to  a  distant  town.  His  grief  and 
that  of  his  wife  were  unfeigned,  and  the  little  children 
wept  when  their  mother  told  them  grandpa  had  gone  to 
heaven. 

"Who  t'n.k  him?"  said  Wallace,  sobbing. 

"  God,"  said  the  mother. 


LIFE    AND    ITS    CHANGES.  27 

"  Why  didn't  he  take  grandma,"  said  the  child,  bit- 
terly, "  and  let  my  grandpa  stay  ?  " 

"Her  would  be  too  c'oss  up  there  —  wouldn't  her, 
mamma  ?  and  her  can't  have  her  loom  —  can  her  ?  God 
won't  'low  it,"  said  Elida,  in  a  whisper. 

"  llush,  hush,  children!"  said  the  startled  mother, 
looking  anxiously  at  the  door. 

After  the  funeral,  the  inhabitants  of  the  "  great  house," 
as  it  was  always  called,  were  thrown  into  terrible  com- 
motion, and  the  feelings  of  the  community  greatly  agitat- 
ed, by  the  reading  of  a  will,  written  a  day  or  two  before 
the  death  of  Mr.  Lentell,  giving  his  entire  property,  new 
house  and  all,  to  his  two  younger  sons,  and  leaving  the 
"  Atwood  place  "  to  Morgan  ;  a  little,  uncultivated  farm, 
with  a  poor,  miserable  house  and  tumble-down  barn  upon 
it.  It  was  well  known  that  the  kind  old  gentleman  would 
not  have  done  such  an  unjust  deed  knowingly,  and  also 
that  his  reason  failed  in  the  very  first  of  his  sickness. 
The  whole  thing  was  illegal :  it  would  not  stand  the 
test  of  law. 

But  here,  again,  the  power  of  the  mother  was  brought 
to  bear  upon  the  yielding  son. 

"Would  he  take  the  law  on  his  own  brothers  ?  and  at 
such  a  time,  too  ?  What  difference  did  it  make  ?  They 
should  always  consider  him  the  same  as  a  father ;  he 
would  still  manage  the  property  just  the  same." 

Alas  for  his  credulity  !  Six  months  had  not  gone  by 
when  he  was  compelled  to  leave  all,  and  retire  to  the  little 
Louse,  where  we  shall  soon  find  them.  He  was  advised 
to  seek  redress,  and  felt  disposed  to  do  so  ;  but  a  few  tears 
and  entreaties  from  his  mother  changed  his  purpose. 
Strange  infatuation  1  "  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  ni<>th- 


28  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

er,"  was  a  lesson  he  bad  learned  most  thoroughly  ;  while, 
"  For  this  cause  shall  a  man  leave  father  and  mother,  and 
shall  cleave  to  his  wife  :  and  they  twain  shall  be  one 
flesh,"  had  found  uo  place  in  his  heart ;  or  that  other 
scripture,  teaching,  "  If  any  provide  not  for  his  own,  and 
specially  for  those  of  his  own  house,  he  hath  denied  the 
faith,  and  is  worse  than  an  infidel." 

At  the  time  of  grandpa  Lentell's  death,  the  debts  were 
nearly  paid  by  the  industry  and  hard  labor  of  Morgan  ; 
aided  considerably  by  the  liberality  of  father  Loveririg, 
and  a  lift  now  and  then  from  his  wife's  brothers.  His 
own  family  had  cost  him  very  little  in  any  way.  But 
the  mason  work  in  the  new  house  was  not  paid  for ;  the 
workmen  had  tried  to  collect  it  from  the  new  owners,  but 
in  vain.  They  saw  plainly  that  the  intoxicating  cup,  fam- 
ily bickerings,  &c.,  were  rapidly  breaking  down  the  once 
strong,  noble  man.  lie  was,  even  then,  almost  a 
wreck  of  his  former  self.  So,  in  the  midst  of  haying1, 
they  seized  the  person  of  Morgan,  and  sent  him  to  the 
county  jail ;  consoling  themselves  with  the  idea  that  the 
mother,  who  was  still  the  ruling  power  on  the  place, 
would  not  permit  him  to  remain  there  ;  especially  at  that 
time,  when  he  was  so  much  needed  at  home,  as  well  as 
on  the  old  place,  where  he  still  did  much  effective  labor. 
They  were  mistaken  :  they  either  could  not,  or  would 
not,  pay  the  debt.  There  was  something  of  the  old  time 
tenderness  in  his  voice,  as  he  bade  his  family  a  sad  good 
by,  and  rode  away  with  the  sheriff. 

"  I  shall  be  back'in  a  day  or  two,  Harmony,"  he  said. 
"  Good  by  ;  keep  up  good  courage.  Mother  '11  contrive 
some  way  to  pay  it  up  right  off.  I'm  going  to  do  better 
when  I  get  back.  I'll  send  somebody  to  see  to  you.  Don't 
go  home,  Harmony,  don't  :  I'll  IIP  l>;x:k  in  a  d;iy  or  so." 


LIFE    AND    ITS    CHANGES.  29 

These  few  kind  words  were  like  dew  on  the  thirsty 
earth  :  she  lived  on  them  many  days.  On  his  way  to  the 
jail,  he  called  on  a  friend  whom  he  had  often  aided,  told 
him  his  circumstances,  asked  him  to  take  care  of  his 
family  until  his  return.  His  case  excited  much  sym- 
pathy, and  several  gentlemen  volunteered  to  give  bail ; 
which  his  mother  urged  him,  with  tears,  to  allow. 

But  as  he  was  resolved  not  to  pay  the  debt,  he  refused 
to  return.  He  had  the  liberty  of  the  yard,  however,  and 
gained  the  esteem  of  the  jailer's  family,  besides  good 
wages.  And  many,  very  many  fondly  hoped  that  this 
experience  would  emancipate  him  from  his  mother,  who 
went  often  to  see  him,  and  wept  bitterly  at  what  she 
called  his  obstinacy  in  not  being  bailed.  But  he  was 
firm,  saying,  — 

"I  shall  remain  here  till  the  term  expires,  unless  you 
pay  the  debt.  You  could  do  it  easily  if  you  chose." 

"  Marm,"  said  Abigail,  the  next  day  after  Morgan  left 
home,  "  Miller  Drake  has  just  gone  along.  I'll  bet  a  dol- 
lar he's  gone  to  see  Harmony  ;  and  he  thinks  so  much  of 
Morgan,  that  he'll  go  and  provide  for  her.  It's  too  bad, 
the  little,  proud,  puttering  thing !  I  hoped  she'd  git 
brought  down  a  peg.  Let  her  go  home  if  she  wants  to, 
and  cogitate  Latin  varbs  with  her  lamed  brothers." 

Fortunately  Abigail  was  the  only  one  in  the  family 
who  inherited  her  mother's  aversion  to  books  and  refine- 
ment of  manners. 

"  Nabby,  you  talk  like  a  fool  about  her  goin'  home. 
Morgan  would  foller  her,  an'  we  couldn't  git  along  with- 
out him.  Hum,  I  wish  to  the  land  we  could.  I  wish  he 
could  be  prevailed  on  to  send  her  home  :  it  would  mortify 
them  Loverings  some,  1  guess.  But  don't  you  fret  about 


30  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

Miller  Drake  ;  I'll  hail  him  when  he  goes  back,  and  you 
see  if  I  don't  manage  that  now." 

And  she  did  manage  it.      She  told  him,  — 

"  She  was  glad  he  had  called  on  poor  Harmony.  She 
means  well  enough,  but  she  don't  know  how  to  manage. 
Everything  goes  to  ruin.  I  shall  see  that  she  don't  want 
for  anything,  though.  We  are  going  to  send  over  their 
food,  and  do  their  washing ;  so  it  won't  be  necessary  for 
you  to  call  again.  We  can  see  to  them  ;  Morgan  ought 
to  have  known  we  would.  I  will  go  right  over  with 
some  things  now.  Poor  Morgan !  I  pity  him,  and 
would  contrive  to  pay  the  debt,  but  we  have  to  maintain 
the  whole  family  most  of  the  time,  and  he  might  as  well 
be  there  as  at  home.  He's  an  altered  man,  Mr.  Drake  ; 
yes,  an  altered  man  since  he  married.  I  pity  him,  and 
his  family  shan't  want  while  he's  gone,  I  promise  you." 

So  Mr.  Drake  wasn't  seen  at  the  small  house  again. 
Perhaps  his  gratitude  wasn't  very  deep  ;  perhaps  he  was 
glad  of  a  poor  excuse  for  not  keeping  a  solemn  promise 
to  one  who  had  befriended  him  in  a  similar  case.  The 
resolute,  determined  character  of  the  elder  Mrs.  Lentell 
was  well  known  in  all  that  region,  as  well  as  her  unnat- 
ural and  unaccountable  prejudice  against  her  son's  wife 
and  the  Loverings  generally.  At  all  events,  he  should 
have  kept  his  promise,  so  solemnly  given.  But  the  food 
was  not  carried  over,  the  washing  was  not  done,  and  the 
family  did  suffer. 

And  Mehitable  Sharp  Lentell  was  careful,  when  she 
went  to  see  her  son,  not  to  inform  him  of  Mr.  Drake's 
unfaithfulness  or  her  own. 

So  the  poor  man  felt  comparatively  easy  about  his 
family,  and  made  many  good  resolutions  for  the  future. 


SAD    SCENES    AT    TIIK   SMALL    HOUSE.  31 

. 


CHAPTER    III. 

SAD  SCENES  AT  THE  SMALL  HOUSE. 

"  Hun  1  You  needn't  ask  mo  to  send  for  Hester 
Strong1,  for  I  shan't.  It's  nothin'  but  '  Hester,'  '  Hes- 
ter.' I  hate  her.  She  shan't  come  here  to  lord  it  over 
me  in  my  old  age." 

"  Why,  what  did  aunt  Hester  ever  do  to  injure  you  ?  " 
said  a  faint  voice  from  the  bed,  which  stood  in  a  corner 
of  the  low,  dark,  dingy-looking  room.  "  0,  I  must  have 
her,  or  I  shall  surely  die,  and  baby  will  die,  too." 

"  Hum  !  you  won't  die  ;  no  danger  of  that.  That  child 
ain't  worth  raisin' ;  she  looks  like  a  monkey.  I've  mado 
gruel  'nuff  to  last  till  mornin' ;  there's  bread  and  meat 
'nuff  for  the  young  'uns.  You've  nothin'  to  do  but  lay 
there,  and  let  'um  wait  on  ye." 

"  0,  I  am  too  sick  and  faint  to  tell  them,"  said  Har- 
mony Lentell,  the  young  and  beautiful  wife  of  Morgan 
Lentcll.  "0,  do  send  for  Hester,  or  mother,  or  some 
one.  Don't  leave  me  alone  with  these  children  another 
night." 

"  I  shan't  send  for  none  of  'em  ;  you've  been  babied 
to  death  ;  'tis  time  you's  weaned,"  said  Mrs.  Mehitable 
Sharp  Lentell,  as  she  turned  to  leave  the  house.  "  Cruel 
and  unsyinpathizang,"  mused  the  sick  one,  as  she  covered 
her  face  and  wept  silently.  The  three  children,  Winnie, 
Wallace,  and  Elida,  drew  nearer  and  nearer  together, 
looking  into  each  other's  faces  in  silent  sympathy. 


32  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE   WORK. 

"  I  think  grandma  is  real  c'oss,"  said  Elida.  "  I  don't 
lovo  her  —  do  you,  Walla 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Wallace;  "she  isn't  a  bit  like 
grandma  Levering  or  aunt  Hester." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Winnie  ;  "  mamma  is  very,  very  sick. 
Don't  you  see  how  pale  she  is  ?  She  is  whiter  than  the 
sheets.  0,  what  if  God  should  take  her  away  from  us  !  " 
she  whispered  close  to  Wallace's  ear. 

"  He  won't,"  said  Wallace.  "  We  couldn't  live  here 
then.  We  can  take  care  of  her." 

"So  we  can,"  said  Winnie;  "let's  go  and  tell  her 
about  it.  Mamma,  mamma,"  she  said,  going  to  the 
bedside,  "Wallace  and  I  can  nurse  you  —  can't  we? 
Look  up,  mamma  !  We  love  you,  all  of  us." 

"  Darling,  precious  children  !  I  know  you  love  me, 
and  for  your  sakes  I  will  try  to  be  calm.  Perhaps  God 
will  send  grandpa  Lovering  to  see  us ;  then  all  will  be 
well." 

"  Shall  I  warm  you  some  gruel,  mamma,  or  bathe  your 
head  ?  0,  what  can  I  do  to  make  you  better  ?  " 

"  You  may  do  both,  darling,  and  then  you  may  put 
little  sister  to  bed,  while  you  and  Wallace  sit  by  me  a 
while  to  comfort  me.  You  are  my  little  comforter,  you 
know." 

Baby  was  a  pale,  sick,  hungry-looking  little  thing  ;  the 
whole  expression  of  the  face  inexpressibly  sad.  They 
named  her  little  Fossie.  The  children  called  her  funny  ; 
the  doctor  very  gravely  remarked,  — 

"  Your  child  is  altogether  too  old  of  her  age,  Mrs. 
Lentcll.  But  have  you  no  one  to  stay  with  you  but 
these  children?  No  sister  or  friend  ?" 

"  My  sisters  are  all  married,"   sighed  the  sick  one. 


SAD    SCENES    AT    T1IE   SMALL    HOUSE.  33 

"  I  am  expecting  a  very  dear  friend,  Miss  Hester  Strong, 
every  moment.  I  wrote  her  a  note  since  I  was  taken 
sick." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  You  will  need 
her.  Good  day,  ma'am.  If  I  am  wanted,  please  let,  me 
know,  and  I  am  at  your  service." 

"  Yes,  you  needn't  come  unless  you  hear  from  us," 
said  grandma  Lentell,  who  entered  the  room  just  in  season 
to  hear  the  remark.  When  the  doctor  had  left  the  house, 
Harmony  inquired,  timidly,  "  Isn't  it  almost  time  for 
Hester  to  come,  grandma  ?  "  She  was  answered  with 
a  derisive  laugh.  "  I  guess  not.  I  burnt  that  letter. 
You  don't  need  her.  I  told  you  so  before."  A  deathly 
faintness  passed  over  the  sick  one  for  a  moment.  She 
felt  stunned  by  the  cruel  blow,  but  the  thought  of  her 
helpless  condition  roused  her. 

"  How  could  you  ?  "  she  murmured,  "  0,  how  could 
you?  You  will  send  Levi  for  her — won't  you?  Don't 
say  no,"  she  pleaded. 

The  reader  has  already  been  made  aware  of  the  cruel 
obstinacy  with  which  the  elder  Mrs.  Lentell  refused  to 
send  for  Hester,  or  any  one  to  take  care  of  Harmony. 
So  she  had  but  little  nursing  except  what  her  children 
bestowed.  She  was  rapidly  sinking,  and  the  wee  baby 
grew  more  wee  daily,  until  grandpa  and  grandma  Lov- 
ering  arrived  on  the  fourth  day  after  its  birth.  "  God 
has  sent  you,"  said  little  Winnie,  as  she  met  them  at 
the  door.  "  Mother  said  he  would." 

"  What's  this  !  what's  this  !  "  said  grandpa,  turning 
around   hurriedly,  and   clinching  his   hand  firmly  in  his 
hair,    as   usual,  when    he    was  'surprised    or  indignant. 
"  Hariny,  where   is  the   nurse?"     "  We's  the    nurse, 
3 


34  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE   WORK. 

said  little  Winnie.  "  Wallace  and  I  is  nurse."  "  Ah, 
indeed!"  said  grandpa,  "you  are  nice  children.  But 
this  won't  do,  Harmony.  Father  must  look  after  you 
better  than  this,  dear  child.  You  must  come  home  when 
you  are  able  to  ride."  lie  stooped,  took  little  Elida  in  his 
arms,  stroked  her  shining  hair,  patted  Wallace's  dark 
locks,  praised  Winnie,  peeped  in  at  the  half-starved  babe, 
stroked  the  hollow  cheek  of  his  faded  daughter  silently 
for  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  a  half  whisper,  "  Take 
the  things  out  of  the  chaise-box,  mother,  and  make  her 
something  nourishing,"  nodding  towards  the  bed.  "  You 
must  stay  arid  take  care  of  her  till  I  get  back  with  Hes- 
ter." Mrs.  Levering  found  things  in  a  sad  condition. 
She  fed  the  hungry  children,  and  smiled  at  their  joyful 
demonstrations  ;  but  her  heart  was  full,  almost  to  burst- 
ing, as  she  stood  over  her  child,  and  combed  gently  the 
matted  locks  of  hair  which  were  once  so  beautiful. 

"  I  feel  so  much  better  !  "  said  the  sick  one,  languidly. 
"  How  good  you  were  to  come,  when  I  have  been  so  ob- 
stinate about  going  home  !  Now  I  shall  sleep  a  little. 
You  will  see  to  them ;  and  baby,  my  poor  baby,  it  seemed 
very  hungry  till  this  morning,  and  now  it  don't  want 
anything.  I  haven't  any  nourishment  for  it,  hardly ;  it 
won't  starve  —  will  it  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  I  think  not ;  go  to  sleep  now.  I  will  see 
to  it,"  said  the  mother,  softly.  But  how  that  word  star- 
tled her  ! 

Starve  I  Harmony's  baby  starve  !  Soon  as  possible  she 
opened  the  little,  blue,  silent  lips,  and  poured  a  few  drops 
of  warm  nourishment  into  its  parched  mouth.  Again 
and  again  it  was  repeated,  while  the  little,  cold,  wet 
infant  was  wrapped  in  warm,  dry  clothing.  But  as  she 


SAD    SCENES    AT   THE    SMALL   HOUSE.  35 

looked  around  on  the  destitution  of  the  house,  thought 
of  the  feebleness  of  the  mother,  and  the  almost  hopeless 
degradation  of  the  father,  she  had  many  doubts  and  mis- 
givings respecting  her  duty. 

"  0,  how  infinitely  better  off  the  little  one  would  be  in 
its  Father's  house  above  !  "  she  thought.  "  But  I  cannot 
let  it  starve  ;  no,  I  must  not,  if  I  can  prevent  it.  Poor 
darling,  surely  the  lines  have  not  fallen  to  you  in  pleasant 
places.  But  God  is  good ;  he  knows  what  is  best ;  I 
must  try  to  save  you,  and  leave  the  result  with  him." 
After  a  few  hours  of  careful  nursing,  the  infant  opened 
those  strangely  beautiful  eyes,  and  raised  them  to  the 
loving  face  bending  over  it,  as  if  to  express  its  gratitude. 
Mrs.  Lovering  was  astonished  at  the  change  produced 
in  the  little  sallow  face  by  their  expression.  She  combed 
the  tangled  locks  of  soft,  bright  hair,  which  curled  into 
graceful  little  ringlets,  and  called  the  children  to  see  how 
pretty  she  looked. 

"  0,  she  is  so  beautifuler  now ! "  said  the  children, 
capering  about.  "  She  was  real  funny  before.  0,  I'm 
so  glad  you  came,  grandma !  Now  grandma  Lentcll  won't 
say  she  looks  like  a  monkey,  and  make  mamma  cry  — 
will  she?"  "I  knowed  she  wasn't  a  monkey,"  said 
Wallace,  proudly.  "  Monkey's  has  got  hair  all  over,  and 
they  hasn't  got  such  nice  little  mouths  and  eyes  —  has 
they,  grandma  ?  "  "  No,  darling,  she  is  a  sweet  little 
sister,  and  when  she  is  strong  and  well,  she  will  be  very 
pretty,  I  think." 

Mrs.  Lovering  was  surprised  to  find  that  Morgan  Len- 
tell  had  been  confined  nearly  a  week  in  the  county  jail, 
leaving  his  family  to  the  tender  mercies  of  his  mother 
and  sister.  They  had  succeeded,  long  ago,  in  convincing 


36  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

him  that  Harmony  was  a  poor,  slack  thing ;  that  she 
wasted  faster  than  he  could  earn.  And  so  they  under- 
took to  spend  his  earnings,  and  carry  in  provisions  as 
they  were  needed ;  and,  in  their  opinion,  it  took  very 
little  to  support  a  shiftless  woman  and  three  miserable 
children,  and  they  dealt  out  the  provisions  accordingly. 
But  for  the  care  and  thoughtfulness  of  grandpa  Lover- 
ing's  family  they  must  have  suffered  ere  this. 

"  My  father  is  a  naughty  man,  sometimes,"  said  little 
Wallace,  confidentially,  to  his  grandma,  as  he  was  being 
undressed  for  the  night.  "  He  is  cross,  and  doesn't  love 
mother,  nor  me,  nor  anybody.  He  talks  bad  words,  and 
I  don't  love  him  much.  Mother  says  I  must,  though,  for 
he  wouldn't  act  so  if  he  wasn't  intoxicated.  lie  tells 
mother  to  go  home  to  her  rich  old  father,  and  I  wish  she 
would.  Mayn't  I  go  home  with  you,  my  dear,  good, 
kind,  little  grandma?  Mayn't  I?"  persisted  the  child. 
"  Mother  will  let  me." 

"  Perhaps  so,  darling,"  said  the  grandmother. 

"  Aunt  Abigail  said  mother  would  go,  if  it  wasn't  for 
her  prideness.  She  wouldn't  —  would  she,  grandma  ?  " 

Just  then  aunt  Hester  arrived.  She  was  now  a  maiden 
lady  of  sixty,  and  one  of  those  individuals  whose  name 
and  nature  are  perfectly  coincident.  Except  that  her 
black  hair  was  slightly  frosted,  one  would  not  have  sup- 
posed her  more  than  forty.  She  was  received  with  dem- 
onstrations of  delight  by  the  children,  and  deep,  heartfelt 
joy  by  the  sick  mother,  some  of  the  earliest  and  pleas- 
antest  recollections  of  whose  life  were  connected  with 
Miss  Hester,  who  had  been  in  the  family  of  her  grand- 
father, or  father,  or  among  their  friends,  all  her  life.  So 
bhe  was  considered  one  of  themselves.  Her  broad  clie.st 


SAD    SCENES    AT   THE    SMALL   HOUSE.  3f 

shook  with  emotion  for  a  moment,  as  she  bent  over  the 
pale  face  arid  sunken  eyes  of  her  early  pet ;  but  the 
resolute  will  kept  the  strong,  siiiewj'  body  in  subjection. 
Her  great  soul  always  obtained  the  mastery  in  the  sick- 
room, where  she  was  perfectly  at  home  under  all  circum- 
stances. So  grandfather  and  grandmother  Levering  left 
with  a  safe,  satisfied  feeling,  saying,  as  they  went,  — 

"  Well,  if  anybody  can  bring  her  round,  Hester  will. 
She  will  have  good  care,  and  Hester  won't  allow  of  any 
interference  from  any  one." 

Grandmother  Lentell  called  very  soon,  and  made  some 
sharp  criticisms  on  the  baby  and  baby's  mother,  as  well 
as  upon  things  generally. 

"  Folks  have  changed  since  we  were  gals  together," 
said  she  to  Hester.  "  They  didn't  lay  in  bed  only  a  few 
days  then  ;  I'm  sure  I  never  laid  by  more'n  a  week  in  my 
life." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  "  they  have  changed.  People 
are  not  so  healthy  as  they  used  to  be ;  and  you  and  I, 
Mehitable,  have  been  highly  favored.  We  don't  know 
what  it  is  to  be  sick.  Let  us  thank  God,  and  be  kind  to 
those  who  do." 

"  Hum,"  says  Mrs.  Mehitable  ;  "  some  folks  can  feign 
sickness  rather  than  work.  For  my  part,  I'd  rather 
work  than  be  sick." 

"  Pretty  likely,"  said  Hester,  dryly.  "  I'm  afraid  you 
arc  not  a  good  judge  of  sickness.  /  ought  to  be,  for 
I've  spent  my  whole  life  among  it.  Folks  thai  feign  sick- 
ness don't  often  pine  till  there's  nothing  left  but  skin 
and  bone.  0  !  "  she  exclaimed  cheerfully,  to  change  the 
subject,  "  there  is  Mrs.  Bartlett,  the  dear,  kind  soul.  She 
is  coming  to  nurse  our  little,  wee,  sick  chick.  Its  poor 


38  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

mother  is  so  low  I  am  going  to  take  good  care  of  her, 
and  hope  she  will  rally  in  a  few  days.  .  She  has  had  a 
hard  time,  poor  darling." 

"  Hum,"  said  Mrs.  Mehitable,  trotting  her  foot  vigor- 
ously ;  "  hum,  that  child  ain't  worth  all  that  fuss.  Why 
didn't  you  let  it  die,  Hester  ?  You  are  just  the  same  as 
ever :  you  don't  look  ahead  a  bit  more'n  you  did  when 
you  refused  a  good  offer,  from  a  sense  of  gratitude  or 
what  not,  to  them  miserable  Loverings.  You'll  git  yer 
pay  for  it  yet,"  said  she,  in  a  sarcastic,  insinuating  tone. 

Hester  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  the  bed.  Yes,  she  heard 
it  all.  A  bright  red  spot  glowed  on  each  sunken  cheek. 

"  I've  got  my  pay  for  all  I've  ever  done  for  them  years 
ago,"  she  said  sternly ;  "  and  as  to  looking  ahead,  I 
try  to  live  for  eternity,  and  not  altogether  for  time.  And 
as  Harmony  is  tired  out,  we  won't  talk  any  more  here ; 
but  if  you  will  stay  till  I  get  back,  Mrs.  Bartlett,  I  will 
take  a  walk  with  Mrs.  Lentell." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Bartlett;  "go,  by  all  means." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Hester,  as  she  bent  tenderly  over 
Harmony,  and  said  some  low,  sweet,  brave  words  to 
her,  arranged  the  pillows,  gave  her  a  drink,  and  left 
her.  Both  walked  on  in  silence  a  few  moments,  when 
Mrs.  Lentell  remarked,  — 

"  I  suppose  you  know  Morgan  never  can  pay  you  for 
staying  there." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,"  said  Hester,  looking  her  steadily  in 
the  face.  "  Is  money  the  only  thing  worth  living  for  ?  " 

"  Why,  you're  a  fool  to  spend  all  your  days  workin' 
for  nothiu',  that's  all ;  "  said  Mehitable,  somewhat  discon- 
certed by  the  steady  gaze  of  her  companion. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  was  the  reply  ;  "perhaps  I  am  not  so 


SAD    SCENES    AT    THE    SMALL    HOUSE.  39 

foolish  as  you  take  me  to  be.  I  was  not  so  stupid  that  I 
could  not  look  ahead  and  see  that  sorrow,  disappoint- 
ment, and  suffering  would  come  upon  Harmony  Lover- 
ing  if  she  married  your  son  and  went  to  live  with  you. 
Was  I  mistaken  —  do  you  think  ?  Don't  we  all  know  what 
you  have  done  to  her  ?  For  shame,  Mehitable  !  From 
beginning  to  end  you  have  abused  and  tyrannized  over 
her.  She  hasn't  complained,  dear  lamb  !  I  told  her  how 
it  would  be  ;  so  she  is  as  silent  as  the  grave.  I  told  her 
folks  you  would  grind  her  to  the  earth.  She  is  too  good 
and  patient  to  live  with  you.  Didn't  I  know  you  ?  There 
came  a  time,  Mehitable,  when  I  could  read  you  through 
and  through,  and  learned  you  all  by  heart,  and  could 
reckon  you  up  as  well  as  I  could  a  sum  in  addition.  Ah, 
Mehitable,  I  fear  you  don't  look  ahead  any,  but  you've  got 
to  answer  for  your  conduct  to  that  child  somewhere.  Her 
folks  didn't  believe  me.  0,  they  didn't  know  what  good 
reason  I  had  to  know  you. 

"  What  a  shame  that  my  poor, -dear  lamb  should  be 
treated  so  !  My  beautiful  little  Harmony,  that  might 
have  married  into  the  best  family  in  our  town,  and  been 
treated  like  a  lady,  as  she  is !  For  shame,  Mehitable,  to 
ruin  your  own  son's  prospects  for  the  sake  of  gratifying 
a  mean,  contemptible,  jealous  disposition.  Be  sure  you 
can't  go  to  heaven  with  that  spirit."  She  had  been 
standing  right  before  Mrs.  Lentell,  with  her  great,  broad 
palm  upon  the  shrivelled  shoulder  of  the  little,  wizened, 
wiry-looking  woman  ever  since  she  turned  to  address  her. 

She  had  moved  her  back  and  forth  slowly,  and  now 
drew  her  near  enough  to  whisper,  — 

"  Vile  woman,  you  know  why  I  did  not  marry  Horace 
Manlie.  You  remember  the  cruel  slander  you  brought 


40  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

to  me,  and  the  letters  —  you  remember  them.  I  had  not 
learned  to  read  you  then  ;  I  believed  you.  It  was  you 
that  sent  him  across  the  ocean,  and  consigned  me  to  a 
life  of  honest  labor,  which  is  not  without  its  reward.  But 
the  pain  is  over  now  ;  I  am  cheerful,  and  happier  than 
you  are.  I  would  not  change  places  with  you.  Horace 
and  I  understood  each  other  before  he  died :  we  shall 
meet  in  heaven."  Holding  her  back,  and  again  looking 
her  steadily  in  the  face,  she  said,  — 

"How  dared  you  allude  to  that  painful  subject  now, 
after  all  these  years,  and  falsely  attribute  our  separation 
"to  Harmony's  folks  ?  You  did  it  to  pain  her ;  you  mean 
to  kill  her.  Go,  now,  and  do  not  come  into  that  house 
again  while  I  stay  in  it." 

She  released  her,  and  turned  to  depart ;  but  Mrs.  Len- 
tell,  who  had  been  surprised  into  silence,  now  found  her 
speech. 

"  You  shall  be  paid  for  this,"  she  said,  slowly.  "  I 
don't  bear  such  insults.  Prove  what  you  say  about 
Horace  Manlie,  or  I'll  make  you." 

"  I  can  and  will,"  was  the  calm,  steady  reply,  "  and 
many  other  falsehoods,  if  you  wish  it.  It  might  help  to 
break  that  tyrannical  power  you  have  over  Morgan,  and 
secure  the  happiness  of  my  darling,  who  never  saw  an 
unhappy  hour  till  she  married  him.  And  he  would  do 
well  enough  away  from  you.  Shall  I  prove  what  I  have 
said  ?  " 

"  Prove  what  you  like,"  was  the  evasive  reply  ;  "  and 
I  shall  come  into  my  son's  house  when  I  like." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  call  that  a  house  !  "  said 
Hester,  looking  at  it  significantly  ;  "  or  perhaps  you  mean 
the  new  house  on  the  hill ;  that  is  his,  not  yours.  You 


SAD    SCENES    AT    THE    SMALL    HOUSE.  41 

can't  expect  to  prosper,  Mehitable  ;  you  never  will.  Soon- 
er or  later  you  will  have  to  meet  a  terrible  reckoning. 
But  I  must  go :  I  can  forgive  you  all  the  wrong  you 
have  done  me  and  him.  He  is  at  rest,  and  /  am  happy  in 
making  others  so.  But  mind,  now,  don't  come  near  Har- 
mony while  I  stay,  unless  you  repent  of  your  wickedness 
to  her,  and  come  to  ask  her  forgiveness.  I  can't  al- 
low it :  she  is  the  sickest  person  I  ever  saw  left  alone  ; 
and  if  she  dies,  her  death  will  lie  at  your  door.  And 
God  knows  there  is  guilt  enough  there  now.  Good  by. 
I  wish  you  well." 

Hester  turned,  leaving  her  standing  as  if  riveted  to  the 
spot.  She  never  imagined-  that  Hester  was  aware  of  her 
duplicity  ;  ay,  treachery  and  hypocrisy.  She  never  knew 
that  Horace  and  Hester  had  become  reconciled ;  that 
Hester  had  watched  over  his  dying  bed,  and  wept  bitter 
tears  of  regret  over  the  manly  form,  and  sealed  by  a  kiss 
on  the  noble  forehead  her  vow  of  consecration  to  the 
sick  and  sorrowing.  She  did  not  know  with  what  heroic 
fortitude  Hester  had  refused  to  yield  to  the  entreaties  of 
Horace  and  the  pleadings  of  her  own  heart  to  be  united 
to  him  in  the  last  hours  of  his  life,  that  he  might  bestow 
on  her  his  entire  effects. 

"  Do  not  ask  me,  Horace,"  was  always  her  tearful 
reply  ;  "  I  do  not  deserve  it.  I  will  not  come  between 
you  and  your  lawful  heirs." 

She  consented  to  receive  five  hundred  dollars  as  a 
dying  gift,  and  had  sacredly  laid  it  aside  for  a  time  of 
need,  which  had  not  yet  come. 

"  0,  hum  I  "  said  Mrs.  Mehitablc  ;  "  then  they  found 
me  out.  Well,  I  suppose  it  wasn't  right,  but  I  liked  him 
in  spite  of  his  larnin'.  If  I'd  had  more  on't,  he  would 


42  IlESTEtt    STUONG'S    LIKi:    WORK. 

liked  mo  better.  0,  hum  !  I  don't  look  much  now  as  I 
did  then.  He  told  me  once  that  I  was  pretty  —  better 
lookin'  than  Hester.  He  wouldn't  say  that  now,  I 
reckon.  Well,  it  can't  be  helped.  I  knew  he  loved 
Hester  :  how  red  he'd  git  in  the  face  when  I  run  out 
ag'in  her !  0,  hum  !  How  he  shook  that  last  night  that 
he  called,  when  I  told  him  she  was  false-hearted  !  0, 
well,  he  knew  better,  and  so  did  I  ;  but  I  meant  to  get 
him.  Well,  I  didn't  play. the  right  card  that  time,  sure. 
I'm  glad  ray  folks  sold  out  jest  a«  they  did,  and  moved 
off.  I'm  glad  I  never  went  there  after  he  got  home.  I 
shouldn't  5ave  dared  to." 


T1IE    TAIN    AND    ITS    CUKE.  43 


CHAPTER     IV. 

THE  PAIN  AND  ITS  CURE.  —  THE  CONFESSION  AND 
REVULSION. 

"  How  cruel !  "  murmured  Hester,  clasping  her  hands 
firmly,  and  walking  with  a  measured  step  back  to  the 
house  ;  back  and  forth  in  the  small  yard.  "  How  cruel 
she  was  to  pry  open  that  secret  chamber  of 'grief !  0, 
I  thought  I  had  buried  that  great  sorrow,  with  all  its 
bitter  memories,  so  deep  that  no  mortal  could  drag  it 
forth  again. 

"  That  fatal  letter  !  How  came  she  by  it  ?  I  should 
have  known  that  it  was  written  to  me,  for  me,  every 
word  of  it,  and  not  for  her.  0,  I  didn't  know  then 
that  any  one  could  be  so  false,  so  treacherous.  How  real 
it  all  seems  to-day  !  And  yet,  more  than  forty  years 
have  passed  since  it  commenced,  and  more  than  thirty- 
eight  since  I  buried  it  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  my  soul. 
To-day  is  the  first  time  I  have  spoken  of  it,  only  to  God. 
I  laid  my  burden  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  when  Horace  died. 
How  faithfully  He  has  helped  me  to  bear  it  all  these  years  ! 
But  now  it  comes  over  me  like  a  flood.  0,  Horace,  wo 
shall  meet  in  heaven  ;  I  believe  it. 

"  0  thou  pitying  Father,  help  me.  Thou  suffering 
Saviour,  comfort  me  ;  even  me,  and  help  me  to  lay  down 
this  vain  regret,  and  take  up  the  burdens  and  duties  of 
my  own  chosen  work.  Help  me  to  think  of  the  blessings 


44  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

left.  How  kind,  tender,  and  thoughtful  the  Loverings 
were  to  me  in  that  day  of  darkness  I  Now  I  have  the  op- 
portunity to  repay  them.  Poor,  dear  Harmony,  I  fear  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  save  her.  And  why  do  I  desire  it  ? 
She  is  one  of  Christ's  little  ones,  and  if  he  calls  her  from 
this  prison-house  of  bondage,  I  must  be  willing,  hard  as 
it  will  be  for  us  who  love  her  so  well." 

She  stopped  at  the  humble  door,  and  resolutely  drove 
the  shadows  from  her  usually  sunny  face,  and  entered  it 
with  a  smile.  Baby  was  having  a  sweet,  satisfied  nap. 
Elida  was  cuddled  away  in  kind  Mrs.  Bartlett's  arms. 
Winnie  and  Wallace  were  at  school.  All  was  quiet,  and 
yet  the  sick  one  could  not  rest.  A  tear  glistened  on  the 
long,  heavy  lashes,  as  Hester,  bending  over  her,  inquired, 
—  "  How  is  my  pet  ?  "  » 

"  0,  auntie,"  she  whispered,  "  I  feel  so  I  The  bed  is 
all  pins,  or  something.  I  can't  lie  still.  What  shall  I 
do?" 

"  Why,  auntie  will  fix  it  for  you,  darling,"  was  the 
reply. 

"0,  it  isn't  in  the  bed,  I  guess ;  it  is  in  me.  SJie 
thinks  I  am  feigning  it ;  I  am  not  —  am  I,  auntie  ?  and 
baby  is  worth  saving  —  isn't  she  ?  and  we  didn't  prevent 
your  marrying  uncle  Horace  —  did  we  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  darling ;  don't  think  of  what  she  said.  I 
know  you  are  a  poor  sick  lamb.  I  will  take  you  up  in 
my  arms,  and  Mrs.  Bartlett  will  make  up  your  bed  all 
clean  and  nice  before  she  goes." 

Hester  forgot  her  own  sorrows  as  she  took  the  at- 
tenuated little  form  in  her  strong  arms,  and  walked  back 
and  forth  gently  a  few  times,  asking  her  to  see  from  the 
window  how  beautiful  things  were  looking  out  of  doors. 


THE    PAIN    AND    ITS    CU11E.  45 

Thou  seating-  herself,  and  placing  Harmony's  head  ten- 
derly on  her  broad  chest,  she  commenced  singing,  softly, 

the  hymn, 

"  Jesus,  Lover  of  my  soul." 

Thus  she  not  only  soothed  the  restless  invalid,  but 
her  own  soul  was  refreshed  and  comforted  by  the  beauti- 
ful hymn.  Harmony  fell  asleep  upon  that  loving  bosom, 
where  she  had  so  often  rested  in  childhood. 

"  Shall  I  help  you  lay  her  down  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Bart- 
lett. 

"  No,  dear  ;  I  shall  hold  her  till  she  is  refreshed.  She 
isn't  as  heavy  as  she  was  at  ten,  I  verily  believe.  Now 
I  think  of  it,  I  wonder  where  that  rocking-chair  is  that  I 
gave  her  when  she  moved  into  the  new  house.  She 
might  be  laid  in  that  sometimes,  if  I  could  find  it." 

"  I  can  tell  you  where  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Bartlett. 
"  Abigail  was  having  a  delightful  rock  in  it  when  I  called 
there  the  other  day." 

Hester's  black  eyes  flashed  as  she  inquired,  "  Is  that 
so  ?  How  came  it  there  ?  do  you  know  ?  " 

"It  is  there  for  safe  keeping,  I  expect.  Why,  Har- 
mony isn't  supposed  to  know  how  to  take  care  of  things, 
because  she  can't  spin  and  weave.  But  I  must  go 
now,  and  will  come  in  to-morrow  and  give  baby  a  good 
dinner." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  and  God  will  reward  you,"  said 
Hester,  "  and  your  husband  will  accommodate  me  great- 
ly if  he  will  let  one  of  the  boys  come  and  carry  me  to 
ride  a  little  way,  after  the  children  get  home.  It  won't 
take  more  than  half  an  hour,  and  I  will  pay  him  for  his 
trouble." 

"  0,  he'll  like  to  accommodate  you,"  was  the  reply. 


46  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

The  old  white  horse  drove  up  to  the  door  in  good 
season.  Miss  Hester  threw  on  a  sun-bonnet,  and  took  a 
seat  in  the  wagon. 

"  Drive  up  to  the  great  house  on  the  hill  as  fast  as  you 
can,"  she  said  to  the  boy.  "  Mrs.  Lentell  seems  worse. 
Drive  as  near  the  front  door  as  possible.  I  shall  go  in  for 
a  moment.  But  mind,  as  soon  as  I  get  into  the  wagon, 
turn  round  and  drive  off  without  delay." 

It  was  scarcely  a  moment  when  Hester  returned  with 
a  large  rocking-chair  in  her  arms,  and  placed  it  in  the 
wagon  as  easily  as  if  it  had  been  a  cricket. 

"  Wait  for  me,"  she  said  to  the  boy.  "  There  is  one 
thing  more  that  I  want  for  present  use." 

She  came  back  again  with  a  small  stand,  just  as  Mrs. 
Lentell,  her  daughter  Abigail,  and  the  two  boys,  had  left 
their  supper  to  see  what  the  disturbance  was. 

"  Harm,"  said  Abigail,  "  see  there  now  !  Are  you 
goin'  to  bear  that?  /shan't,  if  you  do." 

"  You  may  both  have  to  bear  worse  things  than  that," 
said  Hester,  quietly  seating  herself  in  the  wagon.  "  I 
thought  my  chair  and  table  would  be  convenient  to  iise 
just  now.  There  are  some  other  things  in  there  that 
belong  to  Mr.  Levering.  I  should  have  spoken  to  you 
about  them,  but  Harmony  has  been  worse  since  you 
called,  and  I  am  in  great  haste.  Good  by." 

By  this  time  the  carriage  was  out  in  the  street  on  its 
way  to  the  small  house  near  the  swamp,  leaving  the 
group  at  the  large  house  standing  there  in  utter  amaze- 
ment. 

Harmony  was  restless  all  night.  Several  times  Hester 
took  her  up  in  her  strong  arms,  as  if  she  had  been  an 
infant,  and  laid  her  for  a  little  while  in  the  soft  easy- 


THE    PAIN    AND    ITS    CURE.  4f 

chair.  Harmony  looked  pleased  when  she  saw  it,  and 
inquired,  — 

"  Did  you  get  it  for  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,"  was  the  reply.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me  they  had  it  ?  " 

"  I  was  so  sick  I  gouldn't  think/'  she  said  ;  "  besides, 
you  know  how  angry  I  was  when  you  told  me  how  it 
would  be ;  and  I  didn't  like  to.  0,  auntie,  I  ought  to 
have  heeded  your  warning  ;  but  I  loved  him,  and  was 
so  young  !  And  father  did  want  me  to  come  back,  but  I 
wanted  to  please  Morgan.  I  feared  he  would  be  entirely 
weaned  from  me,  and  I  thought  I  couldn't  live  then. 
But  I  have,"  she  said  with  a  ghastly  smile  ;  "  yes,  I 
have  lived  to  lose  that  for  which  I  left  the  best  and  dearest 
of  friends  —  a  happy,  peaceful  home.  We  can't  die  always 
when  we  wish  to  —  can  we,  auntie  ?  —  or  live  either. 
I  have  longed  to  die,  again  and  again  ;  but  the  tone  and 
manner  of  Morgan  when  he  left  home,  make  me  think  his 
heart  is  still  mine  —  that  his  love  for  me,  which  was 
ardent,  has  been  stifled,  not  extinguished ;  and  now  I 
want  to  live,  0,  so  much  !  I  wonder  why  he  has  not 
written  ;  he  said  he  would,  and  I  believe  he  has,"  she 
said,  in  a  whisper.  "  She  wouldn't  allow  me  that  little 
drop  of  comfort,  if  she  could  help  it." 

"  Child,"  said  Hester,  "  I  don't  doubt  that  he  has, 
for  your  father  has  written  him  a  kind  letter  ;  and  I 
am  sure  he  still  loves  you  ;  so  now  -try  to  sleep  while 
I  write  him  a  note.  I  will  send  it  to  the  office  by  the 
children.  You  will  hear  from  him  ;  he  shall  direct  it 
to  me." 

Thus  the  night  wore  away  at  last.  It  was  the  most 
restless  one  Harmony  had  experienced.  Just  what  Hester 


48  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

wrote  wo  know  not ;  but  the  answer  came  soon.  It  was 
lull  of  sorrow  and  contrition  for  the  past,  full  of  hope 
for  the  future.  He  entreated  his  injured  wife  to  forgive 
him  ;  told  her  she  was  dearer  to  him  than  ever  before  ; 
said  he  had  written  twice,  but  had  received  no  answer, 
lie  did  not  say  his  letters  were  sent  by  his  mother ;  but 
so  it  was.  He  closed  by  saying,  — 

"  My  dear  wife,  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  my  mother 
is  the  means  of  all  your  sufferings.  It  shall  not  be  so 
any  longer  ;  do  not  leave  me  ;  stay  in  the  small  house  till 
I  return.  These  last  acts  of  theirs  have  opened  my  eyes. 
Who  would  have  thought  she  would  let  me  stay  here  at 
such  a  time  to  pay  their  debts  ?  or  act  as  she  has,  in 
many  respects  ? 

"  They  hate  you  for  your  superiority;  they  rejoice  at 
anything  that  will  annoy  you.  They  have  sacrificed 
me  to  their  malice  against  you  and  your  folks.  How 
monstrous  !  and  what  a  wretch  I  have  been  to  allow  it ! 
0,  Ilarmy,  I  have  been  thinking,  and  my  own  con- 
duct appears  most  hateful  and  cowardly  ;  yours,  beauti- 
ful and  forgiving  as  an  angel's.  The  tables  shall  be 
turned  soon.  I  have  already  taken  measures  to  regain 
the  property  they  stole  from  me.  I  shall  sign  the  pledge, 
and,  as  far  as  possible,  redeem  the  past :  so  keep  up  good 
courage,  darling ;  we  will  be  happy  yet.  Kiss  little  Fos- 
tina  for  papa.  I  hope  she  will  never  be  ashamed  of  me. 
Tell  the  little  ones  that  I  love  them  all,  and  want  to  sec 
them.  I  shall  bring  them  each  a  present  when  I  come. 
How  good  Hester  was  to  write  me.  She  shall  not  lose 
anything  by  her  kindness.  Try  to  persuade  her  to  make 
her  home  with  us.  I  mean  to  have  the  new  house  all  to 


THE    CONFESSION    AND    EEVULSION.  49 

ourselves.  Mother  (I  can  hardly  bear  to  speak  of  her), 
and  Abigail,  and  the  boys  can  go  to  the  small  house  near 
the  swamp.  My  lawyer  says  their  fraud  and  deception 
will  give  me  entire  power  over  them.  And  they  deserve 
it.  I  don't  mean  to  forget  my  duty  to  them  ;  but  I  have 
learned  that  my  own  family  have  the  highest  possible 
claim  upon*me.  0,  why  did  I  not  learn  it  before  !  But 
the  past  is  gone,  the  future  only  is  left  us.  God  grant 
I  may  make  a  wise  use  of  it. 

"Yours,  with  much  love, 

"  MORGAN  LENTELL." 

Harmony  remained  very  calm  and  quiet  while  her  kind 
friend  read  this  letter,  looking  up  now  and  then  to  ascer- 
tain its  effect.  She  closed,  and  both  remained  silent  a 
few  moments,  when  Hester,  observing  the  extreme  pale- 
ness of  the  invalid,  stepped  to  the  bed  and  inquired,  — 

"  Isn't  my  darling  very,  very  happy  ?  Isn't  it  all 
bright  and  beautiful  in  the  future  ?  " 

She  reached  out  the  little  thin  hand,  which  Hester 
clasped  in  hers,  and  said  softly,  — 

"  Yes,  auntie,  all  bright  and  beautiful ;  but  not  here  ; 
no,  not  here  ;  it  is  too  late.  I  am  going,  auntie  ;  don't 
you  see  it  ?  " 

"  I  see  that  you  are  feeble,"  was  the  reply ;  "  and  I 
hoped  this  letter  contained  a  cure.  Is  it  not  so,  darling  ? 
Surely  you  do  not  wish  to  leave  poor  Morgan  now,  and 
these  little. ones." 

"  No,  auntie,  I  did  not  wish  it ;  but  God  has  helped  me 

to  be  willing,"  she  said,  with  a  sweet  smile.     "  How  I 

have  hungered  and  thirsted  for  just  such  a  letter  as  that 

was  !      How  I  have  prayed  for  it !     A  few  days  ago  I 

4 


50  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

think  it  would  have  made  me  unwilling  to  die  ;  but  now, 
thank  God,  I  can  leave  them  all.  0,  auntie, 

'  There  is  a  land  where  beauty  does  not  fade, 

Nor  sorrow  dim  the  eye ; 
Where  true  hearts  will  not  shrink,  nor  be  dismayed, 

And  love  will  never  die.' 

• 

It  is  there  I  am  going,  auntie.  How  glad  I  am  that  ho 
knows  how  I  have  been  wronged  !  that  he  will  love  my 
memory !  Tell  him  how  dear  he  was  to  me  ;  tell  him  I 
forgave  him  day  by  day,  and  pitied  him  so  much  !  " 

"But  think, ".said  Hester,  "how  sad  it  will  be  for 
Morgan  to  lose  you  under  these  circumstances.  Perhaps 
God  will  yet  raise  you  up  to  care  for  your  family  and 
assist  your  husband  to  do  right.  It  will  be  hard  for  him 
to  break  away  from  old  habits  alone." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Harmony,  almost  sadly.  "  I  have 
thought  of  it.  It  has  distressed  me  very  much  ;  but  now 
my  peace  is  like  a  river. 

'  When  we  hear  sweet  music  ringing 

Through  the  bright,  celestial  dome, 
When  sweet  angel  voices,  singing, 
Gently  bid  us,  "  Welcome  home," 

can  we,  0,  can  we,  regret  to  go  ?  Dear  auntie,  uncle 
Horace  will  be  there,  too.  You  say  mother  is  like  him. 
I  shall  know  him  —  shall  I  not  ? 

'  In  that  land  of  ancient  story, 

Where  the  spirit  knows  no  care, 
In  that  world  of  light  and  glory, 
Shall  we  know  each  other  there  ? ' 

Yes,  auntie,  I  feel  that  we  shall. " 


THE    CONFESSION    AND    REVULSION.  51 

She  became  exhausted,  and,  while  Hester  stroked  gen- 
tly the  soft  locks,  which  had  regained  something  of  their 
former  brightness  under  her  care,  fell  asleep. 

Hester  seized  this  opportunity  to  write  a  note  to  Mr. 
Lovering,  and  also  one  to  Morgan,  stating,  in  as  few- 
words  as  possible,  her  worst  fears. 


52  HESTER    STllONG'S    LIFE    WOEK. 


CHAPTER    V. 

ALONE  WITH  THE  DYING  AND  THE  DEAD.  —  THE  SAD 
RETURN. 

THAT  night  and  the  next  day  passed  slowly  at  the 
email  house  near  the  swamp.  Harmony  was  sinking 
rapidly. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  them  once  more,"  she  said  sev- 
eral times  during  the  day,  "  if  it  could  be  so.  But  it  is 
all  right.  Poor  Morgan  I  what  a  disappointment !  May 
God  help  him  to  bear  it.  Give  my  dying  blessing  to  my 
dear  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  and  friends.  I  love  them 
all.  Poor  Morgan  !  what  shall  I  say  to  him  ?  0,  if  it 
could  have  been,  if  I  could  have  lived  to  help  and  bless 
him,  how  happy  we  might  have  been  yet !  But  it  may 
not  be.  Tell  them  not  to  mourn  for  me.  I'm  going 
home.  How  sweet  that  word  is  —  '  home  '  !  How  it 
rests  me  to  think  of  it !  " 

"  I  hope,  darling,  that  your  husband  and  parents  may 
arrive  to-morrow.  I  have  sent  for  them." 

She  smiled  and  said,  "  It  would  be  pleasant,  but  it 
may  not  be.  Tell  my  parents  that,  when  left  alone  here 
to  suffer  those  three  dreadful  nights,  I  felt  willing  to 
suffer  it  all,  and  more,  to  regain  my  husband's  love  and 
reformation  ;  and  God  has  given  me  my  desire  —  blessed 
be  his  name  !  What  more  can  I  ask  for  myself?  These 
children,  too,  I  feel  easy  about  them.  How  wonderful, 
wonderful  it  is  !  " 


ALONE  WITH  THE  DYING  AND  THE  DEAD.     53 

Towards  night  she  became  restless  in  body,  but  calm 
and  triumphant  in  spirit.  She  kissed  the  children,  say- 
ing, fervently,.  "  Father,  I  commit  them  to  thee  ;  lead 
them  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  them  from  evil,  for 
thine  is  the  kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory.  Amen." 

Hester  could  not  realize  that  the  dark  river  was  flow- 
ing even  at  the  door ;  she  could  not  hear  the  sturdy 
strokes  of  the  boatman  as  he  neared  the  "  hither  shore." 
She  could  not  see  the  shining  escort  coming  with  songs 
of  joy  and  great  rejoicing  to  release  the  ransomed  one, 
too  early  crushed  by  the  sorrows  and  disappointments  of 
earth.  No,  she  could  not  see  them,  even  when  they 
folded  their  golden  wings,  and  waited  silently  in  the  small 
house  near  the  swamp.  She  did  not  hear  their  gentle 
whispers,  or  see  their  looks  of  heavenly  sweetness ;  but 
she  felt  their  presence,  and  grew  strong  in  faith  and 
love. 

"Auntie,"  said  the  sick  one,  with  a  smile,  "  it  is  al- 
most over,  and  the  pain  is  gone.  I  am  only  waiting, 
and  weary,  weary.  You  will  love  my  darlings,  auntie, 
for  my  sake  ?  " 

"  Yes,  lamb,  I  will  love  them  while  I  live.  Even  as  I 
have  loved  you,  will  I  love  them,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  will  you,  can  you,  take  my  little  baby,  and 
shelter  it  in  those  strong,  kind  arms  ;  will  you  ?  I  re- 
member now  what  its  grandmother  said.  Will  you  take 
it  ?  I  would  not  have  it  left  with  her." 

Hester  took  the  little  unconscious  thing,  and  folded  it 
to  her  breast,  and  then  said,  solemnly,  "  I  will,  if  God 
permits  it." 

"He  will,"  said  the  dying  mother,  "he  will.  Let 
me  kiss  you.  I  am  happy,  0,  so  happy  !  and  God  will 


54  1IESTER    STRONG'S    HFK    WORK. 

see  to  them,  and  you  will  guide  their  young  feet  in  the 
blessed  path."  She  grew  more  and  more  restless.  "I 
am  twenty-six  at  twelve  to-night,  auntie,"  she  said  ;  "it 
don't  seem  but  a  little  while  since  you  used  to  rock  mo 
to  sleep.  Once  again,  auntie,  once  again  let  me  lie  in 
your  bosom,  and  go,  yes,  go  to  sleep." 

Hester  raised  her  —  0,  how  tenderly  !  The  shining 
escort  smiled  approvingly  as  she  folded  her  to  her  warm, 
full  heart,  and  said,  — 

"  Now,  what  shall  I  sing  ?  " 

"  Sing, 

'Eock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee.' 

That  is  what  I  want  now  ;  but  tell  me  first,  auntie,  what 
separated  you  and  uncle  Horace.  Did  we,  our  folks,  do 
it,  and  make  you  unhappy  ?  " 

"  No,  darling,  no ;  I  never  received  anything  but 
kindness  from  them.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  happened 
now  :  it  would  distress  you.  It  is  all  right,  darling." 

"  Yes,  it  is  all  right,"  murmured  the  weary  sick  one  ; 
"  sing  now." 

When  the  last  stanza  was  finished,  the  little  hand 
clasped  in  Hester's  was  cold  and  still,  the  eyes  were 
closed,  and  weary  little  Harmony  had  gone  to  sleep. 

"  Asleep  in  Jesus,"  murmured  Hester ;  "  0,  how 
sweet !  My  little  lamb,  you  were  led  early,  too  early, 
to  the  slaughter.  Why  was  it  so  ?  How  willingly  I 
would  have  shielded  you  !  and  yet  I  made  a  mistake.  I 
should  have  given  them  the  proofs  of  her  perfidy,  the 
reasons  of  her  hatred  to  them  ;  they  would  have  act- 
ed differently  then.  "  0  Harmony,  my  beautiful,  my  pre- 
cious !  Why  were  all  your  beauty  and  sweetness  wasted  ? 


ALONE     WITH     T1IK    DYING    AND    T1JE    DEAD.          55 

scattered  by  the  foul  breath  of  that  envious,  slanderous 
woman.  Why  was  she  permitted  to  pursue  you  even  to 
the  gates  of  dcatli  ?  But  it  is  all  over,  darling,  all 
over,  now.  Sleep  on  ;  she  cannot  wake  or*trouble  you. 
I  was  mistaken  ;  I  should  have  given  you  the  reasons 
for  what  I  told  you.  I  have  kept  my  secret  too  well, 
far  too  well ;  may  God  forgive  me." 

She  laid  the  little  cast-off  dress  of  the  soul  reverently 
on  the  bed,  and  knelt  there  alone  with  the  dead,  as  she 
had  knelt,  more  than  thirty  years  before,  with  the  cold 
clay  of  one  dearer  to  her  than  life. 

Again  she  is  living  over  the  agony  of  that  night ; 
again  her  strong  form  is  bowed  and  quivering  with  the 
blast  that  then  swept  over  her,  and,  as  she  thought, 
passed  away  forever,  with. its  power  broken. 

"  0  God,  open  again  that  secret  chamber,"  she 
prayed,  "  and  bury  again  those  dead,  dead  hopes,  those 
crushing  fears,  that  parting  agony." 

"  Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee." 

As  the  Sea  of  Galilee  was  stilled,  hushed  to  rest  by  a 
word  from  the  lips  of  the  blessed  Master,  so  the  soul  of 
Hester  Strong  was  calmed  into  trusting  peace  by  the 
pitying  One.  She  arose — prepared  the  dead  for  the 
silent  grave. 

How  beautiful  she  was !  the  weary,  sorrowing  look 
all  gone,  the  eyes  closed  as  if  in  peaceful  slumber. 
Hester  could  now  look  cheerfully  on  the  lovely  face  ; 
but  as  she  turned  away  from  the  dead,  she  remembered 
the  living. 

The  noble  husband,  who  had  been  so  near  the  very 


56  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

brink  of  ruin,  and  returned  to  the  threshold  of  reforma- 
tion— what  would  be  the  result  of  this  stunning  blow  on 
him,  the  absent  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters  ?  The 
feeble  mother,  why  could  she  not  have  died  in  her  loving 
arms  ?  Hester  wept  as  she  gazed  on  the  sleeping  chil- 
dren, and  thought  what  might  have  been,  and  what 
might  now  come  upon  them.  How  should  she  tell 
them  ?  She  laid  herself  down  by  the  helpless  baby,  and 
tried  to  rest ;  but  her  heart  was  too  full  for  sleep. 

A  great  murmur  of  indignation  ran  through  the  com- 
munity the  next  morning  after  Harmony's  death.  The 
house  was  filled  to  overflowing  ;  the  little  children  could 
find  no  quiet  place  to  weep  only  on  the  bosom  and  in  the 
arms  of  dear  auntie  Hester. 

"  Who  will  take  care  of  us  now  ?  "  sobbed  Wallace. 

"  Shall  I  have  to  go  to  grandma  Lentell's  ?  "  whispered 
Winnie. 

"Let  me  stay  wis  you,"  said  Elida,  clinging  to  her 
neck. 

"  God,  our  Father  in  heaven,  will  take  care  of  us,"  was 
all  Hester  could  say,  for  her  own  mind  was  sorely  per- 
plexed concerning  them. 

Many  tears  of  pity  and  affection  were  shed  by  neigh- 
bors, and  all  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  kind 
offices  now.  Why  could  not  some  of  those  who  might 
have  known  the  circumstances,  have  come  forward  when 
a  life  might  have  been  saved  ?  It  was  the  same  old  story 
—  "I  did  not  think  ;  "  "I  was  very  busy  ;"  "  I  wish  I 
had  known ;  "  and  some  could  say  truly,  "  I  did  not 
know."  All  felt  most  keenly  that  there  was  one  who 
did  know  —  one  who  had  promised  to  watch  over  the 
lonely  wife  in  her  husband's  compelled  and  shameful 


ALONE    WITII    THE    DYING    AND    TIIE    DEAD.  5T 

absence.  They  knew  that  neglect  and  guilt  lay  at  the 
door  of  the  great  house  on  the  hill.  Mrs.  Bartlett  kindly 
offered  to  take  the  infant  to  her  own  house,  and  care  for 
it  till  it  could  be  better  provided  for ;  which  offer  was 
gladly  accepted. 

Mrs.  Mehitable  was  stunned  by  the  news  of  Harmony's 
death.  She  had  been  sincere  in  thinking  her  not  sick  : 
she  was  never  sick  herself;  why  should  others  be  ?  But 
death  was  a  terror  to  her.  The  still  small  voice  whis- 
pered unpleasant  things  in  the  soul's  ear — truths  which 
she  hated,  but  could  not  shut  out.  She  closed  the  door 
and  made  it  fast,  took  two  letters  from  their  hiding- 
place,  read  them,  and  rocked  the  little,  wiry,  wizened 
form  back  and  forth,  back  and  forth,  exclaiming  bitterly, 
"  0,  hum  !  everything  comes  at  once.  If  Morgan  should 
go  to  law,  as  he  promised  her,  the  game  will  be  up. 
But  them  Loverings  won't  have  the  handling  on't  now ; 
that's  a  comfort.  Hum,  hum !  I've  played  the  wrong 
card  this  time,  too  ;  I  might  have  let  her  have  these, 
but  I  didn't  think  she'd  die.  Well,  I  hated  her ;  she 
looked  like  the  only  man  I  ever  loved,  and  he  deserted 
me  ;  yes,  he  deserted  me  after  I  had  sold  myself  to  the 
evil  one,  almost,  to  get  him.  Hester  says  them  Lover- 
ings  were  not  the  cause  on't.  0,  well,  it  can't  be 
helped  !  Morgan  mustn't  know  I  didn't  give  her  these  ; 
he  mustn't  know  I  left  her  alone  so  much.  I  wish  I 
could  still  that  tongue  of  Hester's  ;  I  hate  her  worse 
than  ever.  I'm  glad  she  didn't  marry  Horace  ;  she  was 
a  fool  not  to,  though.  0,  hum !  I  don't  know  what  to 
do  first.  I  can't  do  nothing  with  Hester  ;  and  then  them 
Loverings  know  all  about  it.  Well,  I  must  see  Morgan 
first  of  any  on  urn  —  that's  all,"  she  said  as  she  arose, 


58  11KSTEU    STUONG'S    LIFE    WOUK. 

wont  to  the  stove,  dropped  the  two  letters  into  it,  then 
culled  her  son  and  bade  him  harness  the  smart  horse, 
saying  to  Abigail,  "I  must  bring  Morgan  myself,  or  the 
fat  will  all  be  in  the  fire.  You'd  better  go  over  ;  it  will 
look  better." 

"  No,  I  shan't,"  was  the  prompt  reply  ;  "  I  don't  go 
for  looks." 

Mrs.  Mehitable  was  too  late.  Hester's  note  had 
informed  him  that  Harmony  was  dying,  and  the  friends 
he  had  made  while  there  hastened  his  departure.  Their 
hearts  were  filled  with  the  deepest  pity  by  his  grief  and 
remorse. 

"  It  will  be  all  over  with  me,"  he  said,  hopelessly,  to 
the  jailer's  family,  —  "all  over  with  me,  if  she  dies.  I  shall 
be  a  murderer  ;  I  can't  bear  up  under  it.  If  I  knew  she 
was  dead  now,  I  would  drown  this  misery  in  rum  ;  yes, 
I  couldn't  help  it.  0,  God  1  what  a  wretch  I  have 
been." 

They  saw  that  it  would  be  useless  to  reason  with 
him ;  they  said  kind,  comforting  words,  and  bade  him  a 
sad  good  by.  Mr.  Lovering  had  informed  him  of  his 
mother's  course  towards  Harmony ;  of  her  dismissal  of 
Mr.  Drake  ;  neglecting  to  send  for  Hester  ;  of  the  des- 
titute, suifering  condition  in  which  he  found  her. 

"  And  now  if  she  should  die  before  I  reach  her  !  " 
He  shuddered  to  think  of  it. 

With  a  heavy  heart  he  turned  his  face  homeward,  and 
hurried  on  till  he  came  in  sight  of  Mr.  Drake's. 

"  Stop  here,"  he  said  to  the  driver,  "just  a  moment." 

He  strode  up  to  the  door  with  a  face  so  pale  and  hag- 
gard that  his  old  friend  scarcely  knew  him. 

He  caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  said,  hoarsely  and  hur- 


TI1E    SAD    RETUKX.  59 

ricdly,  "  Miller  Drake,  do  you  remember  how  I  sacrificed 
the  hard-earned  wages  of  months  to  save  you  from  im- 
prisonment and  dishonor  ?  Do  you  remember  it  ?  What 
did  you  promise  me  then  ?  0,  what  did  you  promise 
me  when  I  went  forth  to  pay  a  debt  which  was  not 
mine  ?  You  have  been  false,  false  as  —  You  knew  my 
mother,  or  might  have  known  her,  better  than  I  did.  My 
wife  is  either  dying  or  dead  ;  your  neglect  helped  to  kill 
her.  I  called  to  curse  you,  and  you  will  be  cursed  I" 

He  turned  and  went  hastily  back  to  the  carriage,  re- 
fusing to  listen  to  Miller  Drake's  excuses,  simply  saying, 
"  You  were  false  —  faithless  and  false." 

Hester  was  terrified  at  the  wild,  hopeless  face  of 
Morgan,  which  peered  in  at  the  door  about  noon.  He 
rested  his  eyes  on  his  dead  wife  for  a  moment,  and 
then  disappeared  with  a  stifled  groan.  Hester  called 
to  him,  little  Elida  called,  but  on,  on  he  went  to- 
wards the  great  house  on  the  hill.  They  were  greatly 
perplexed,  and  a  friendly  neighbor  went  in  pursuit  of 
him.  In  a  short  time,  grandpa  Lovering  and  wife 
arrived.  Calmly  they  looked  upon  the  silent,  upturned 
face  ;  tearfully  they  listened  to  the  story  of  her  dying 
hours.  And  when  Hester  inquired  if  they  had  met  Mor- 
gan on  the  way,  they  replied  that  a  man,  who  might  have 
been  he,  leaped  over  the  wall  and  fled  hurriedly  out  of 
sight. 

"  0,  it  was  he  I"  said  Hester  ;  " he  could  not  bear  to 
meet  you." 

She  showed  them  his  letter  to  Harmony,  which  had 
been  lying  beneath  the  pillow.  They  read  it,  and  wept 
afresh. 

"  0,  if  it  might  have  been  !  "  they  said  ;  "  if  she  could 


60  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

have  lived  to  realize  those  bright,  fond  hopes  we  all 
indulged  !  all  but  you,  Hester  ;  you  seemed  to  be  clearer 
sighted  than  the  rest  of  us." 

"  But  I  was  once  as  blind  as  the  blindest  concerning 
Mrs.  Lentell,"  she  replied.  "  0,  Mary,  when  this  is  over 
you  shall  know  my  secret,  which  I  have  so  stubbornly 
kept.  But  think  you  Morgan  will  adhere  to  his  good 
resolutions  ?  " 

"I  cannot  tell,"  said  grandpa;  "I  fear  not;  but  I 
must  seek  him  and  obtain  permission  to  bury  this  dust 
with  her  kindred,  and  among  those  who  knew  and  loved 
her.  Twenty-six  years  old  to-day  !  Ten  years  a  wife, 
and  four  times  a  mother,"  he  mused.  "  0  that  I  could 
recall  the  past !  " 

Morgan  arrived  at  the  great  house  in  a  state  bordering 
on  insanity.  Bending  over  the  affrighted  Abigail,  he 
exclaimed,  vehemently,  "  Murderer  !  where  is  your  ac- 
complice, your  mother  ?  Where,  where  is  she  ?  Tell 
me  before  I  —  " 

Just  then  the  friend  who  had  followed  him  arrived, 
and  answered  the  question  Abigail  was  too  much  alarmed 
to  answer. 

"  She  has  gone  for  you." 

"  She  needn't,"  was  the  sharp  reply  ;  "  the  work  is  all 
done.  She  is  dead ;  and  now  I  shall  drink,  and  drink, 
and  drink,  until  I  forget  it  all.  That's  what  she  herself 
has  taught  me.  When  Harmony  used  to  plead  with  me 
not  to  drink  the  damning  beverage,  she  used  to  say, 
'  Morgan,  I  would  have  my  rum,  in  spite  of  her  ;  you 
work  hard  and  need  it.'  Didn't  I  mind  her  ?  didn't  I  ?  " 
he  groaned.  "  Yes,  I  minded  her,  wretch  that  I  was, 
and  if  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  I'll  mind  her  still.  She 


THE    SAD    RETURN.  61 

shall  cat  her  own  words,  and  drink  the  bitter  cup  she 
meant  for  another.  0,  Harmony,  my  patient  Harmony," 
he  said,  in  a  wild,  despairing  tone.  "  If  I  could  have 
heard  you  say  you  forgave  me,  if  I  could  have  atoned 
for  the  past,  I  might  have  been  a  man  again,  a  father  to 
our  children  ;  but  now  it  is  no  use,  no  use." 

"  But  she  did  forgive  you,  and  loved  you  to  the  last," 
said  the  friend  who  had  followed  him.  "  Come,  go  and 
sec  how  peacefully  she  is  sleeping,  and  receive  her  dying 
message." 

He  dropped  into  a  chair,  covered  his  face  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said,  mournfully,  "  I  can't,  I  can't  look 
at  her.  I  helped  to  kill  her.  0,  she  was  nothing  but 
a  child  —  a  trusting,  beautiful  child  —  when  I  brought 
her  here.  I  cannot  see  her,  or  meet  her  parents.  They 
are  there  ;  how  they  must  hate  me  !  I  hate  myself,  and 
God  hates  me  I  I  must  drink.  I  haven't  tasted  rum 
these  three  weeks,  and  never  meant  to  again  ;  but  I 
must  now,"  he  said,  fiercely. 

He  opened  the  closet,  where  the  full  decanters  always 
stood,  and  drank  like  one  determined  to  forget,  in  spite , 
of  his  friend's  remonstrances. 

He  reminded  him  of  his  children,  of  friends  who  loved 
him,  of  happiness,  and  respectability  in  the  future. 

"Friends!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  mocking  tone.  "If 
my  own  mother  is  so  false,  what  can  I  expect  of  others  ? 
If  she  and  Abigail  would  sacrifice  my  happiness  to  spite 
an  innocent  woman,  where  in  the  wide  world,  think  you, 
can  I  find  happiness  ?  It  is  all  a  sham.  No,  they  have 
helped  me  make  this  bed,  and  now  they  must  lie  in  it." 

lie  soon  sank  into  a  state  of  helpless  intoxication, 
from  which  he  could  not  be  aroused. 


62  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

Poor,  miserable,  mistaken  mother !  you  have  been 
playing  a  dangerous  game.  You  commenced  early  in 
life  to  make  false  moves,  regardless  of  the  feelings  or 
sufferings  of  others  ;  you  moved  on,  and  now  you  must 
reap  as  you  have  sown.  You  gloried  in  the  firm,  steady 
reins  with  which  you  guided  your  family.  You  gov- 
erned them  by  fear ;  they  obeyed  because  it  was  more 
comfortable  to  do  so.  Selfishness  was  the  groundwork 
of  your  power  over  them.  You  laid  a  sandy  foundation 
to  stand  on  in  the  decrepitude  of  old  age  ;  you  forgot 
that  any  government  based  on  fraud,  deception,  and  un- 
godliness must  perish ;  and  that  truth,  justice,  and 
humanity  were  the  only  firm  foundations  to  build  upon. 
You  forgot  that  "  righteousness  exalteth,"  while  "  sin  is 
a  reproach."  Alas  !  you  will  find  that  the  way  of  the 
transgressor  is  hard.  By  the  untimely  death  of  your 
son's  wife,  and  the  terrible  fall  of  your  son  into  inebriety, 
you  are  left  in  possession  of  your  ill-gotten  property  ;  but 
a  curse  is  resting  upon  it,  and  in  your  own  breast  you 
have  the  witness  of  your  wicked  deeds.  Yes,  your  con- 
science will  ever  accuse  you,  and  your  firmly  misguided 
children  will  prove  a  terrible  scourge. 

Mr.  Lovering  was  allowed  to  follow  his  own  plans 
without  molestation.  Slowly  the  little  procession  moved 
along  ;  sadly  the  friends  of  other  days  gathered  around 
the  sweet  flower,  so  early  faded.  Tenderly  they  laid 
her  in  the  bosom  of  mother  earth,  "  under  the  sod." 

"  O  spirit,  freed  from  bondage, 

Rejoice  ;  thy  work  is  done  I 
The  weary  world  is  'neath  thy  feet, 
Thou  brighter  than  the  sun ! 


THE    SAD    RETURN.  63 

"  Awake,  and  breathe  the  living  air 

Of  our  celestial  clime ; 
Awake  to  love  that  knows  no  change, 
Thou  who  hast  done  with  time. 

"  Awake !  lift  up  thy  joyful  eyes ; 

See !  all  heaven's  host  appears ; 
And  be  thou  glad  exceedingly, 
Thou  who  hast  done  with  tears. 

"  Awake !  ascend !     Thou  art  not  now 

With  those  of  mortal  birth; 
The  living  God  hath  touched  thy  lips, 
Thou  who  hast  done  with  earth." 


64  1JESTER    STRONG'S   LIFE   WOKE. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

WHAT  BECAME  OF  THE  CHILDREN.  —  THE  MIDNIGHT  CALL. 

HARMONY'S  death,  and  the  trying  circumstances  attend- 
ing it,  hastened  an  event  which  had  long  been  dreaded 
by  the  family.  Consumption  had  been  kept  from  fasten- 
ing its  fatal  fangs  upon  Mrs.  Lovering  by  the  utmost 
care  and  vigilance. 

Under  the  pressure  of  this  great  and  peculiar  trial,  she 
failed  very  fast.  The  motherless  children  of  her  daughter 
she  looked  upon  as  worse  than  orphaned  ;  she  saw  their 
father  rushing  down  the  awful  precipice  of  inebriety  ; 
he  would  only  be  a  shame  to  them  —  a  terror,  and  not  a 
protector. 

She  shuddered  when  she  thought  of  them  with  their 
grandmother  Lentell.  Her  own  house  was  being  filled 
with  her  son's  children.  The  son's  wife  evidently  thought 
Harmony's  children  intruders,  and  treated  them  as  such. 
With  the  true  instincts  of  a  wo'man,  she  saw  a  life  of 
suffering  and  danger  before  them ;  and  the  feeling  that 
she  was  helpless  —  unable  to  save  them  from  it — was 
depressing. 

Again  and  again  she  was  assured  by  her  husband  and 
children  that  they  should  be  taken  care  of.  She  saw, 
better  than  they  did,  the  difficulties  in  the  way. 

"  If  Hester  was  young,"  she  used  to  say,   "  I  should 


WHAT    BECAME    OF    THE    CHILDREN.  65 

foci  easy  about  them.  The  remainder  of  Harmony's 
portion  would  support  them  until  old  enough  to  earn  a 
living1.  If  they  could  all  be  with  her,  I  should  feel  satis- 
fied. Old  Mrs.  Lentell  would  not  trouble  them,  I 
think." 

"  Never  fear  for  those  children,"  Hester  used  to  say, 
cheerfully  ;  "their  dying  mother  committed  them  to  One 
who  is  strong  and  mighty  —  even  the  orphan's  God. 
Can  you  not  trust  them  in  his  hands  ?  They  will  have 
trials,  disappointments,  and  temptations,  as  who  does 
not  ?  but  they  will  come  off  victors,  every  one  of  them. 
They  will  have  to  struggle  with  poverty  and  disgrace  on 
their  father's  account;  but  it  will  make  them  strong  and 
self-reliant.  Have  you  forgotten  how  destitute  I  was 
left  at  an  early  age  ?  Has  my  life  been  more  dark  and 
cheerless  than  that  of  thousands  who  started  with 
brighter  prospects  ?  Do  you  suppose  I  have  forgotten 
who  it  was  that  made  my  childhood  like  a  summer's 
day  ?  Believe  me,  Mary,  I  have  a  pleasure  before  me, 
and  not  a  task.  I  wish  I  was  young,  for  their  sakes  ; 
but  for  myself,  it  seems  good  to  near  my  glorious  home. 
How  often  the  sweet  voice  and  dying  words  of  our  dar- 
ling come  back  to  me  in  the  still  watches  of  the  night ! 
0,  Mary,  she  looked  so  much  like  Horace  that  it  seemed 
like  losing  him  again  when  she  died.  The  sweet 
verses  she  repeated  contained  the  very  essence  of  our 
last  conversation  together.  Let  me  repeat  her  words 
again,  and  then  tell  me,  Mary,  if  we  can  regret  to  go 
when  such  blessedness  is  in  store  for  us.  We  shall  not 
only  see  our  Lord,  and  be  clothed  in  the  brightness  of 
his  ineffable  glory,  but  we  shall  meet  the  loved  and  lost. 
Ay,  we  shall  know  them,  too  ;  I  feel  assured  of  it.  Yes, 
5 


66  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

those  that  arc  one  in  Christ  on  earth,  shall  be  one  in  Christ 

in  heaven. 

'  We  shall  know  each  other  there.'  " 

"  Your  words  comfort  me,"  said  Mrs.  Lovering.  "  My 
faith  grows  brighter.  Repeat  that  last  verse  again  ; 
yes,  I  think  it  will  be  so.  We  shall  arrive  there  by 
many  different  roads,  some  dark  and  thorny,  some  on 
beds  of  down,  some  on  straw,  perchance  ;  but  it  will  be 
all  the  same  when  we  reach  the  haven  of  rest,  whether 
the  voyage  be  rough  and  full  of  peril,  or  smooth  and 
prosperous.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  No,  not  all  the  same,  for  the  torn  and  tempest- 
tossed,  the  benighted  traveller,  will  be  filled  with  a  ful- 
ness of  joy  and  exultation  which  the  peaceful,  prosper- 
ous voyager  can  never  know.  Mary,  we  must  be  weary 
before  we  can  fully  appreciate  rest ;  we  must  drink  the 
bitter  cup  of  sorrow  before  we  can  experience  the  ful- 
ness of  heavenly  bliss.  It  must  be  so,  for  '  lie  doeth  alt 
things  well.'  " 

As  yet  all  the  children  had  remained  at  grandpa  Lov- 
ering's.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  little  things  trying  to 
be  so  good  and  patient  for  fear  of  being  sent  to  grandma 
Lentell's.  They  said  but  little  about  their  mother,  ex- 
cept at  night,  when  auntie  Hester  put  them  to  bed ;  then 
the  pent-up  feelings  must  find  vent.  Their  artless  talk 
often  brought  tears  to  those  eyes  which  were  wont  to 
weep  with  those  who  weep,  and  sometimes,  as  the  chil- 
dren knelt  around  her  for  their  .evening  prayer,  little 
Eli  da  would  say,  — 

"  P'ease  God,  let  me  stay  wis  auntie  ever  so  long,  and 
don't  die  her,  too,  as  mumma  did.  Dear  God,  don't,  for 
Jesus'  sake.  AIIK-M." 


WHAT    BECAME    OF    TFIE    CHILDREN.  61 

This  simple  prayer  always  seemed  to  send  a  wave  of 
uncontrollable  grief  over  Wallace  and  Winnie.  It  re- 
minded them  that  the  time  was  drawing  near  when  they 
must  be  separated  from  her  and  from  each  other. 

"  0,"  said  Winnie  on  such  an  occasion,  "if  God  is  so 
good,  why  didn't  he  let  Wallace  and  I  go  to  heaven  with 
our  sweet  mamma  when  there  was  nobody  to  want  us  here  ? 
I  heard  aunt  Judith  say  so  to-day.  She  said  she  couldn't 
have  us  round  in  the  way.  0,  I  have  tried  to  be  so  still 
and  good,  and  play  with  her  baby  when  I  wanted  to  go 
out  of  doors  !  Don't  you  pity  us,  auntie  ?  "  she  sobbed. 

Hester  moved  the  wondering  baby,  and  took  her  in 
her  arms  to  comfort  her,  while  Wallace  and  Elida  still 
knelt,  weeping. 

"Pity  you?  Yes,  darling,  and  God  pities  you.  He 
will  make  it  all  right,  dear.  He  loves  you,  and  we 
all  love  you.  He  has  a  nice,  snug  little  nest  for  you 
somewhere.  He  wants  you  down  here  for  something  ; 
perhaps  it  is  to  take  care  of  me  when  I  am  old  ;  perhaps 
it  is  to  watch  over  this  little  kitten  when  I  am  gone 
home.  Let  me  lay  her  in  your  arms  ;  see,  she  is  almost 
smiling  at  you  !  " 

The  children's  attention  was  now  turned  upon  baby. 
Soon  Elida  was  seated  on  the  other  knee,  playing  with 
baby's  tiny  feet. 

"  I  want  a  place,  too,"  said  Wallace. 

"  If  auntie  had  two  laps,  you  could  has  one,"  said 
Elida. 

"  He  shall  have  my  place,"  said  Winnie  ;  "he  is  the 
youngest." 

Baby  was  delighted  at  the  novelty,  and  watched  the 
proceedings  with  her  large,  calm  eyes,  with  quiet 
i'arii  Hi. 


68  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

When  the  children's  minds  were  sufficiently  diverted, 
Hester  gave  them  their  good-night  kiss,  and  they  retired 
to  the  sweet,  refreshing  sleep  of  childhood.  Not  so  with 
Hester  ;  the  failing  health  of  her  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Lover- 
ing,  whom  she  had  loved  as  a  sister,  together  with  the 
care  and  anxiety  of  providing  suitable  places  for  the  two 
eldest  children,  weighed  down  even  her  elastic  spirits. 
And  then  there  were  the  little  ones  —  her  own  peculiar 
charge  —  to  care  for.  She  wished,  if  possible,  to  secure 
them  all  against  the  interference  and  domination  of  Mrs. 
Lentell ;  but  how  that  could  be  done  was  a  question 
which  had  caused  her  many  sleepless  nights. 

"  She  will  not  meddle  with  them  till  they  are  old 
enough  to  work/'  she  used  to  say  to  Mr.  Levering  ; 
"  but  they  must  be  placed  entirely  beyond  her  control, 
if  possible." 

As  she  sat  revolving  the  matter  over  and  over  in  her 
mind  after  the  children  were  asleep,  she  could  not  refrain 
from  weeping,  until  her  broad  chest  shook  with  emotion. 
She  had  forgotten  the  little  wise,  old-fashioned  baby  in 
her  lap,  who  had  been  looking  on  in  blank  amazement. 
At  length  she  was  aroused  by  a  little  frightened,  quiver- 
ing cry. 

"  Why,  darling,  darling  pet,"  she  said,  softly,  tender- 
ly;  "  precious  birdie,  did  she  think  her  auntie  was 
crazy  ?  Did  she,  darling  one  ?  "  said  Hester,  smiling 
through  her  tears.  "  Naughty  little  dirlie,  not  to  let 
her  auntie-mamma  cry  her  cry  out." 

Thus  she  soothed  and  quieted  the  little  thing,  and  then 
sung  a  gentle  lullaby  till  baby  was  fast  asleep. 

Noble,  conquering  TIc>l<  r  !  Belf-denying,  loving  Hes- 
ter !  Did  you  see  the  infant'^  angel  smile,  0,  so  sweet- 
ly !  as  h<>  nuide  the  record  of  the  d;iy  ? 


WHAT    BECAME    OF    THE    CHILDREN.  69 

Did  you  catch  tlio  faintest  echo 

Of  the  music  soft  and  clear, 
Floating  round  the  sainted  mother 

When  you  soothed  her  children's  fear? 
Did  you  hear  the  glad  hosannas 

When  you  kissed  away  the  tear? 
Hester,  there's  a  crown  preparing ; 

Many,  many  stars  are  there  : 
In  that  crown  shall  shine  those  children, 

Bright,  and  beautiful,  and  fair. 

0,  Hester,  you  are  rich  in  heaven.  Yours  are  the 
gold-bearing-  bonds  of  loving  words  and  deeds.  There 
will  be  no  discount  on  your  treasures,  Hester ;  they  are 
secure  in  God's  eternal  safe.  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it 
unto  these  little  ones,  ye  did  it  unto  me." 

Open  thine  eye  of  faith,  0,  Hester,  beloved  of  God', 
and  chosen  ;  for  this  thy  last  shall  be  thy  crowning 
work.  Only  believe,  and  thou  shalt  see  the  desire  of  thy 
large,  unselfish  heart  accomplished  concerning  these 
children,  for  thy  prayers  have  been  accepted  in  heaven, 
and  even  now  the  answer  is  at  hand. 

"  Hester,  Hester  !  "  called  Mr.  Lovering,  cheerfully, 
just  as  she  was  laying  little  Fostina  in  bed. 

Hester's  heart  gave  a  bound,  a  throb,  and  then  stood 
almost  still,  as  she  hastened  down  stairs. 

"  Here  are  the  papers,"  said  he,  meeting  her  at  the 
door  ;  "  they  are  ours,  thank  God  !  " 

"  Thank  God  !  "  ejaculated  Hester,  fervently  ;  "then 
they  are  ours.  Precious  children  !  At  this  moment  I 
would  give  a  great  deal  to  be  young  and  rich.  But 
riches  often  prove  a  snare,  or  take  to  themselves  wings 
and  fly  away  when  most  needed  ;  youth  soon  passes 

away,  and  beauty  is  vain.     The  wise  man  says,  — 

| 
'  All  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.' 


70  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

But  this  is  a  happy  hour  for  me.  I  must  make  the  best 
use  of  my  time  while  I  stay  here.  Who  knows  but  I 
may  bring  them  a  good  piece  on  their  way  yet  ?  IIow 
did  you  find  Morgan  ?  " 

-  "  0,  don't  ask  me  ;  it  is  too  sad.  He  seems  to  have 
but  one  aim,  or  object,  and  that  is  to  torment  and  pun- 
ish his  mother.  The  suit  at  law  was  stopped  by  their 
giving  bonds  for  his  support." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  Hester,  sadly.  "  Poor  woman, 
she  will  reap  a  fearful  reward  for  her  life  of  sin  and  self- 
ishness. Now,  Mr.  Levering,  my  plans  are  all  made. 
Don't  oppose  me  —  will  you  ?  I  have  thought  it  all 
over.  I  shall  buy  half  of  grandpa  Manlie's  house.  They 
arc  upwards  of  ninety,  you  know,  and  cannot  have  much 
longer  to  stay  here.  They  wish  it,  and  say  it  will  be  a 
comfort  to  have  me  with  them.  Their  daughter  loves 
my  children  (don't  be  jealous  now  ;  you  have  lots  besides 
these),  or,  if  you  choose,  our  children.  "Will  that  do 
better  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  grandpa  ;  "  I  shall  claim  a  share  in  them, 
and  wish  that  I  was  situated  so  that  two  of  them  could 
stay  here.  But  we  have  never  quarrelled  with  Judith,  and 
don't  mean  to  ;  she  has  her  good  qualities,  but  patience 
and  benevolence  are  not  among  them.  If  it  were 
Edward's  or  Frank's  wife,  they  could  stay  and  wel- 
come." 

"  Well,"  said  Hester,  "  never  mind.  I  know  Judith  ; 
they  can't  stay  here  ;  besides,  Mary  is  not  able  to  have 
them  ;  they  must  go  as  soon  as  possible.  I  want  them 
all  for  a  few  months,  until  this  great  sorrow  has  worn  off 
a  little.  So  take  us  to  the  village  to-morrow  —  won't 
you  ?  Change  of  scene  will-  do  them  good.  It  would 


THE    MIDNIGHT    CALL.  71 

have  broken  your  heart  to  hear  them  talk  to-night. 
They  —  that  is,  Wallace  and  Winnie — know  they  arc  not 
wanted  by  their  aunt ;  they  feel  it." 

"  Poor  lambs  !  "  said  grandpa.  "  But  what  shall  wo 
do  without  you,  Hester  ?  What  will  Mary  do  ?  " 

"  The  girls  must  come  home  in  turns,"  said  Hester. 
"  I  should  love  to  remain,  but  duty  calls  me  away." 

"  But  you  can't  think  of  keeping  them  all,"  persisted 
grandpa ;  "it  is  too  much.  Their  uncles  and  aunts 
must  take  Wallace  and  Winnie." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  "  I  do  think  of  keeping  them  all 
for  the  present.  Some  time  they  may  have  to  go,  but 
not  now.  Don't  urge  ;  the  little  things  have  had  as 
much  suffering  as  they  can  bear.  We  will  see  what  can 
be  done  for  them  in  the  spring." 

Mrs.  Lovering  saw  the  wisdom  of  Hester's  plan,  and 
cheerfully  submitted.  It  was  pleasant  to  think  that  in 
all  probability  Hester  would,  after  all,  be  with  her  aged 
parents  to  soothe  their  declining  days.  Horace,  to  be 
sure,  would  not  be  with  her ;  but  they  would  meet  him 
on  the  other  shore.  Mr.  Manlie  refused  to  take  a  cent 
for  the  house,  but  said  to  her,  solemnly,  as  he  placed  the 
deed  of  one  half  of  it  in  her  hand,  — 

"  Take  it ;  it  should  have  been  yours  long  ago,  my 
daughter.  God  bless  you,  and  spare  you  to  bless  others 
for  a  long  time  yet." 

And  so  the  children  found  a  home  for  the  time. 
Would  that  it  could  have  been  a  permanent  one  for 
them  all. 

"  Passing  away  "  is  written  upon  all  things  below  ;  so, 
when  the  summer  flowers  departed,  and  the  autumn 
leaves  fluttered  in  the  chilly  wind,  when  the  green  grass 


72  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

lay  crisp  and  silvered,  Mary  M.  Levering,  the  loving 
daughter,  sister,  wife,  and  mother,  went  to  sleep  on 
earth  —  to  wake  in  heaven.  None  knew  the  hour  of  her 
departure.  They  came  for  her  in  the  silent  watches  of 
the  night,  and  bore  her  away  without  a  sigh,  a  groan,  or 
a  sad  farewell. 

"  You  have  rested  nicely  to-night,  mother,"  said  the 
tender  husband  ;  but  no  answer  came.  "  Mother  !  "  and 
the  voice  was  slightly  startled.  "  Mother  !  "  —  bending 
over  her  ;  but  there  was  no  voice — she  was  gone.  0, 
yes,  she  had  gone  so  quietly,  so  peacefully,  she  was 
resting  so  profoundly,  that  the  tears  and  sighs  of  those 
who  loved  her  did  not  disturb  her  rest.  Dear  weepers, 
would  you  have  it  otherwise  ?  Would  you  call  her  back 
to  buffet  the  turbulent  waves  of  the  dark  river  ?  Would 
you,  for  a  few,  last,  gasping  words,  call  her  back  to 
struggle  with  the  mighty  conqueror  of  life,  and  see  her 
yield,  reluctantly,  perhaps,  through  fleshly  fear  ? 

0,  no,  you  would  not.  Thank  God,  rather,  that  she 
is  so  safely  through ;  that  she  is  so  soon  with  Christ,  who 
careth  for  you. 

"  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in 
the  morning." 

"Weep  on — and  wait." 


THE    CIIILDBEN'S    PRATTLE.  73 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  CHILDREN'S  PRATTLE.  —  THE  WIFE'S  BURDEN,  OB  A 
SYNOPSIS  OF  MR.  GILES. 

LOOKING  out  of  the  window,  watching  the  carriages, 
the  school  children,  the  girls  from  the  mill  as  they  went 
and  came,  went  and  came,  six  times  a  day,  six  days  in 
the  week,  in  sunshine  and  rain,  was  fine  entertainment 
for  the  little  country  children. 

It  pleased  them  ;  it  made  the  days  seem  short ;  it  was 
something  new.  It  is  no  use  to  chide  these  children 
for  their  love  of  novelty  :  we  all  love  it. 

"  This  is  a  nicer  place  than  the  country,"  said  Wal- 
lace;  "don't  you  think  so,  auntie  Hester?  There  is 
more  boys,  and  horses,  and  funny  carts,  and  stores,  and 
a  factory  with  a  bell  to  it.  I  should  like  to  pull  the 
rope  and  make  the  bell  dingle.  Say,  auntie,  isn't  it 
nice  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  this  is  a  pretty  place,  and  there  are  a 
great  many  things  to  amuse  children  from  the  countiy. 
But  don't  you  think  you  will  miss  the  merry  birds  and 
flowers,  the  orchard  and  the  berry  pasture,  the  little 
brook  where  your  water-wheel  is  ?  " 

Wallace  looked  serious  for  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  — 

"  Poh  !  no,  indeed  !  My  water-wheel  was  a  little  thing ; 
they've  got  a  bigger  stream  here,  with  a  water-wheel  on 


74  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

it  larger  than  our  barn.  The  man  let  me  see  it  the 
other  day ;  he  said  it  would  smash  me  up  though,  if  I 
went  near  it." 

"  That  is  so,"  said  Hester.  "  You  must  not  go  near 
the  mill  without  my  permission.  There  was  a  little  boy 
killed  there  once." 

"  Tell  us  about  it,"  cried  the  children  in  chorus.  "  Tell 
us,  auntie." 

"  0,  he  disobeyed  his  parents,  and  went  in  swimming, 
and  was  carried  over  the  mill-dam  and  killed." 

"  0,  dear  me  !  "  said  Elida.  "  Wasn't  he  sorry  he 
went  and  got  in,  and  didn't  mind  better  ?  Was  he 
all  dead  when  he  got  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  dam, 
auntie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  and  terribly  bruised ;  it  was  a  sad  sight 
to  see." 

"  Well,"  said  Wallace,  thoughtfully,  "  I'm  glad  it 
wasn't  mo.  Can  I  play  on  the  bridge  sometimes,  if  I 
will  be  careful  not  to  fall  in  the  water,  or  tear  my 
clothes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Hester,  smiling  ;  "  the  bridge  is  be- 
low the  dam.  I  think  you  may  go  there  safely,  pro- 
vided you  will  be  careful." 

"  The  mill  is  a  buzzing  thing,"  said  Winnie,  very 
demurely.  "  If  it  would  stop  buzzing,  I  should  like  to 
work  there  ;  but  the  noise  makes  me  crazy.  Don't  you 
think  it  is  hateful,  auntie  ?  It  keeps  saying  things." 

"Does  it,  sister?"  said  Wallace;  "what  docs  it 
say  ?  " 

"  Why,  in  the  spin-room  it  says  '  buzzy-uzzy,  buzzy- 
uzzy  '  all  the  time  ;  and  in  the  weave-room  it  says 
'  clap-it-to-clap,  clap-it-to-clap.'  Why,  the  looms  ain't 


THE    WIFE'S    BURDEN.  75 

a  bit  like  grandma  Lentell's  ;  but  I  felt  as  if  she  was 
going  to  box  my  ears  every  minute  while  we  staid  there  ; 
and  after  we  got  home,  I  kept  hearing  it,  and  after  I 
went  to  bed  it  was  '  clap-it-to-clap  '  till  I  went  to  sleep  ; 
and  in  the  morning  my  head  felt  sick." 

"  Well,"  said  Elida,  encouragingly,  "  'haps  it  will  be 
stiller  when  it  grows  older  ;  then  you  can  work  there. 
I'se  doin'  to  spin  when  I'se  old,  so  I  can  have  them 
pretty  things  they  wind  the  thread  on  to  play  wis. 
Won't  it  be  funny  ?  And,  Winnie,  if  you  work  in  the 
weave-room,  you  can  has  some  too  :  why,  I  seed  a  boy 
carry  a  bushel  full  up  there ;  and,  Wallace,  when  you's 
big  enough  to  carry  the  basket,  you  can  has  some ;  and 
then  we  will  bring  some  to  totty  mite,  and  aunty  will  let 
us  play  wis  them.  0,  how  funny  !  "  and  Elida  laughed 
and  clapped  her  chubby  hands  gleefully. 

Baby  jumped  and  crowed,  which  was  always  the 
prelude  to  a  chorus  of  happy  voices,  and  a  good  time 
generally. 

Hester  laughed  heartily  at  Elida' s  concluding  speech, 
though  feeling  somewhat  sad.  It  grieved  her  to  think 
that  the  children  must  soon  be  separated.  The  dear  old 
people  in  the  other  part  were  kind  and  patient,  but  she 
knew  they  needed  rest  and  quiet  at  their  time  of  life  ; 
besides,  she  did  not  feel  able  or  competent  to  look  after 
them  all. 

She  wished  she  could  have  kept  Winnie  instead  of 
Elida,  she  would  have  been  such  a  help  about  baby. 
Elida's  disposition  seemed  to  have  caught  the  brightness 
of  her  mother's  life,  while  living  with  her  husband  in 
the  aged  widow's  family.  Her  heart  was  like  a  little 
fountain  of  sunshine  and  gladness.  She  would  mako 


T6  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE   WORK. 

friends  more  readily  than  Winnie,  who  was  timid,  care- 
taking,  and  sensitive,  but  amiable  and  unselfish.  But 
her  aunt  Elevia  Giles  said  her  husband  was  unwilling 
she  should  take  one  of  the  children,  unless  she  could 
have  the  eldest. 

"  He  thinks  I  couldn't  get  along  with  the  work ; 
should  have  to  hire  washing,  sewing,  &c.,  for  some  time. 
He  says  Winnie  could  help  a  great  deal  now,  and  pretty 
soon  she  would  be  old  enough  to  —  " 

"  But  he  seems  to  be  looking  at  only  one  side  of  the 
question,"  said  Ilester.  '-'Now,  I  love  all  these  children 
for  their  mother's  sake,  and  presume  you  do  ;  but  if  you 
go  to  making  all  those  nice  calculations  about  the  prob- 
able benefit  of  adopting  one  of  them,  it  will  be  a  failure. 
Love,  mutual  love,  and  benevolence,  must  be  the  basis  of 
such  a  relation,  and  not  self-interest,  or  it  will  prove  a 
bitter  mockery,  to  the  child  at  least.  If  you  take  one  of 
them  from  good  and  noble  motives,  such  as  your  grand- 
parents had  in  adopting  me  in  my  infancy,  why,  a  bless- 
ing will  grow  out  of  it ;  otherwise  it  will  be  a  snare. 
Don't  you  think  so,  Levie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Hester,  I  do  ;  I  am  sure  grandpa's  adopting 
you  has  been  a  real  blessing  to  us  all.  What  should  we 
have  done  without  you  ?  But  Mason  and  I  don't  think 
alike  about  many  things,  and  it  don't  do  for  me  to  op- 
pose him  since  we  were  married,  unless  I  wish  to  live 
in  a  quarrel.  I  should  prefer  Elida  ;  there  is  just  differ- 
ence enough  between  her  age  and  Unie's.  They  would 
soon  be  companions  for  each  other,  and  we  are  abun- 
dantly able  to  bring  them  up.  I  wish  Masqn  was  differ- 
ent. Riches  are  worse  than  useless,  unless  they  can  be 
used  without  so  much  —  "  Here  the  young  wife  bowed 
her  head  and  wept. 


THE    WIFE'S    BURDEN.  7f 

Hester  was  astonished.  Elevia  had  not  been  two  years 
married  :  she  had  supposed  her  very  happily  situated  in 
all  respects.  True,  she  had  noticed  a  change  in  her,  —  a 
care-worn,  weary  look,  —  and  had  attributed  it  to  the 
responsibilities  of  housekeeping,  or  ill  health.  She 
had  seen  but  little  of  Mason  Giles,  and  thought  him 
remarkably  pleasant  and  perfectly  devoted  to  his  amiable 
wife.  Hester  thought  a  great  deal  in  those  few  mo- 
ments. She  had  known  Elevia  from  her  very  birth  ;  if 
there  was  trouble  in  her  lot,  she  felt  sure  the  fault  was 
not  hers.  She  had  become  so  accustomed  to  human 
nature  in  all  its  moods  and  tenses,  could  read  it  so 
correctly  that  she  did  not  hesitate  mentally  to  pronounce 
Mason  a  mean,  miserly,  wilful,  deceitful  man.  How 
could  she  let  her  little  sensitive  Winnie  go  into  such  an 
atmosphere  ? 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Levie,"  she  said  aloud.  "  So 
all  is  not  gold  that  glitters.  Poor  child,  then  you  have 
a  skeleton  in  your  nice  home.  Keep  it  out  of  sight  as 
much  as  possible,  darling.  Never  look  at  it  when  you 
can  avoid  doing  so.  Every  look  will  make  it  more 
hideous.  They  have  something  of  the  kind  everywhere, 
dear.  I  have  learned  a  great  deal  going  among  the  sick. 
Child,  if  we  would  be  happy,  it  must  be  in  spite  of 
something.  It  must  be  by  shutting  our  eyes  upon  some 
things,  and  resolutely  fixing  them  upon  others  more 
pleasant  and  agreeable." 

"  But,  auntie,  you  don't  think  a  woman  can  be  happy 
in  spite  of  her  husband  —  do  you?"  said  Elevia,  tear- 
fully. "  It  seems  monstrous  to  think  of  it  ;  how  can 
she  ?  » 

"  In    many    ways,"    was   the    quiet    reply.      "  If    wo 


78  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

truly  love  God,  and  trust  iu  Christ,  no  mortal  can  make 
us  entirely  miserable.  There  is  a  peace  which  the  world 
can  neither  give  nor  take  away,  you  know  ;  and,  as  I 
said  before,  if  you  have  a  grief,  don't  nurse  it,  or  it  will 
become  too  mighty  for  you.  If  you  have  a  cross,  take 
it  up  bravely,  or  you  will  stumble  over  it ;  if  a  skeleton, 
shut  it  up,  hide  it,  or  with  patient  labor  mould  it  into  an 
image  of  beauty  ;  or,  if  this  cannot  be  done,  cover  it 
as  much  as  possible  under  the  beautiful  mantle  of  charity, 
'  which  suffereth  long  and  is  kind.'  But  don't  try  to  do 
this  in  your  own  strength,  dear ;  you  cannot.  But 
there  is  a  promise,  '  As  thy  day  is,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be.'  Lean  upon  it,  Levie  ;  trust  in  the  '  elder  Brother ; ' 
believe,  and  ye  shall  find  rest." 

"  0,"  said  Elevia,  "  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  of  this. 
I  have  never  spoken  of  it  before  ;  but  I  am  so  disap- 
pointed, so  distressed,  that  it  seems  to  me  I  can't  b,car 
it  alone  much  longer.  I  know  what  you  say  about  the 
promises  of  God  is  true,  but  I  am  not  a  Christian  —  I 
wish  I  was.  But  even  then,  I  should  need  earthly  friends 
to  counsel  and  comfort  me.  Mother  has  been  so  feeble 
ever  since  my  marriage,  that  I  could  never  speak  of 
it  to  her.  It  would  have  been  such  a  comfort  if  I 
could  !  " 

"Yes,  dear,  so  it  would;  but  I  was  your  mother's 
friend,  and  yours  too  :  speak  to  me  freely  and  without 
reserve  ;  perhaps  I  can  help  you.  '  Bear  one  another's 
burdens,'  is  the  injunction,  you  know." 

"  And  you  have  done  that  most  faithfully,  auntie.  I 
do  wrong  to  burden  you  with  my  trouble  ;  but  it  is  so 
hard  to  bear  it  alone.  To  have  Mr.  Giles  so  pleasant 
and  accommodating  before  folks,  and  then  treat  me  like 


THE    WIFE'S    BURDEN.  19 

a  hired  servant  or  a  slave  when  alone,  is  so  cruel !  I 
never  do  anything  to  suit  him.  The  food  is  not  just 
right ;  his  linen  is  too  stiff  one  week,  and  too  limber  tho 
next ;  if  a  thing  is  faultless,  he  says  nothing  about  it. 
If  the  pies  are  a  little  too  sweet  or  sour,  he  talks  about 
it  continually  till  the  last  one  is  eaten,  and  often  alludes 
to  it  afterwards  to  tease  me.  Baby  has  always  been 
troublesome.  And  now,  when  I  work  hard  all  day,  and  am 
kept  awake  half  the  night  with  the  poor  little  thing,  he 
thinks  it  strange  I  should  be  tired.  When  I  feel  sad,  he 
calls  me  cross.  He  never  tries  in  any  way  to  help  me. 
This  morning  I  felt  sick  and  discouraged  ;  little  Uriie  was 
restless  all  night,  and  worrisome  in  the  morning,  so  that, 
although  I  tried  hard,  I  did  not  get  breakfast  on  the 
table  till  five  minutes  after  the  usual  time.  He  talked  of 
it  all  meal-time  ;  I  told  him  how  it  was  ;  he  laughed,  and 
said  he  knew  women  who  had  brought  up  ten  children, 
and  weren't  dead  yet.  I  told  him  my  head  ached  ;  he 
laughed  again,  and  said  it  always  ached  since  I  was 
married.  0,  auntie,  that  isn't  half!  I  can't  tell  it. 
But  the  hardest  thing  of  all  is  to  have  him  so  smooth 
and  nice  in  company  ;  that  disgusts  me.  I  am  afraid  I 
hate  him  for  it.  If  he  can  be  so  pleasant  and  obliging 
in  company,  he  can  when  alone  with  me.  If  he  was 
always  alike,  I  should  think,  with  Mr.  Phrenol,  that  it  was 
his  '  bumps,'  and  he  couldn't  help  it.  Now,  tell  me," 
sobbed  the  unhappy  wife,  "  if  you  think  I  can  enjoy 
much  with  my  husband  ?  Can  I  ever  respect  him,  and 
be  happy  again  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,"  said  Hester  ;  "  I  don't  know  him  ;  if  I 
did  I  could  advise  you.  But  all  things  arc  possible 
with  God.  If  he  is  naturally  affectionate,  you  may 


80  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

conquer  him    by  kind,    patient  words    and    deeds  ;    by 
mildly  but  firmly  insisting   upon   having  your  rights  re- 
spected ;  by  letting  him  see  that  you  mean  to  do  right, 
the  best  you  can,  and  all  you  can,  and  are  determined 
that  you  will  not  be  found  fault  with  continually.      Child, 
your  situation  is  a  trying  one  ;  you  need  that  wisdom 
which    comcth  from   above    to   direct  you  ;    seek  to  be 
reconciled  to   him  first  of  all.     You  are  suffering  from 
two  causes  —  overwork  and  disappointed  affection.    Now, 
if  I  understand  the  case,  you  do  not  need,  a  little  girl, 
but  a  lai'ge   one,  to  do  the  heavy  work  and    assist    in 
tending  the   baby.     Then  you  would  be  strong  to  con- 
tend with  difficulties,   and   make   a   strenuous    effort  to 
remedy  those  tilings  which  annoy  you  so  much.    It  vexes 
some  men  to  see  their  wives  always  looking  pale  and 
sad ;  and  yet  they  have  not  sense  enough  to  know  that 
they  can't  help  it,  when  body  and  mind  are  overtaxed. 
They  don't  realize  how  hard  it  is  to  be  broken  of  one's 
rest,  or  how  much  labor  it  is  to  do  the  work  for  a  family. 
Xow,  if  you  could  get  a  girl  to  relieve  you  some,  and 
then   apply  yourself  vigorously  to  correcting  your  own 
and    your   husband's  faults,  you  might  work  wonders. 
Human  nature  is  a  strangely  perverted  thing,  and   tern'- 
My  inconsistent;   but  patience  and   perseverance,  it  is 
said,  will  remove  mountains.     Will  you  try  my  remedy, 
Levie  ?  or  work  out  for  yourself  a  better  one  ?  " 

"  0,  auntie,  I  wish  I  could.     Did  you  ever  know  any 
one  so  unhappy  as  I  am  to  become  happy  again  ?  " 

"  0,  yes,  child ;  a  bad  beginning  sometimes  ends  well. 
You  must  labor,  and  wait,  and  pray." 

"  But,  auntie,  my  face  is   such  a  tell-tale.     When  he 
says  unkind  things  to  me,  I  feel  as  if  I  should  die,  and 


THE    WIFE'S    BURDEN.  81 

I  show  it.  "When  he  pats  me  on  the  cheek  and  pets 
me  in  company,  I  feel  indignant,  insulted,  and  disgusted  ; 
I  can't  help  showing  it,  you  see,  and  people  think  I  am 
hateful,  without  affection  or  gratitude.  I  know  it,  I  see 
it  in  their  looks.  And  sometimes  women  who  I  know 
have  kind,  tender,  thoughtful  husbands,  say  to  me, 
'  Why,  your  husband  idolizes  you,  Mrs.  Giles  ;  I  wish  my 
husband  thought  as  much  of  me,7  &c.  That  cuts  like  a 
knife.  My  own  sisters  speak  in  that  way.  And  then 
he  loves  to  tease  me  before  people,  and  will  speak  of  my 
mistakes  in  housekeeping  in  such  a  pleasant,  jocose  way, 
that  people  think  strange  I  cannot  receive  it  in  the  same 
spirit.  0,  they  don't  know  how  often  I  have  heard  it  at 
home,  and  how  differently,  until  the  mention  of  it  chafes 
and  galls  my  feelings.  But  I  would  be  anything,  and 
bear  or  do  anything,  if  he  only  loved  me.  Then  I  might 
in  some  way  work  my  way  out  of  this  darkness,  and  be 


"  God  can  help  you  out  of  this  trouble,  my  child  ; 
trust  in  him  ;  do  not  despair.  I  have  seen  what  prom- 
ised to  be  very  unhappy  marriages  turn  out  well.  I  have 
also  seen  what  appeared  to  be  very  happy  marriages 
become  wretched  ones  by  mismanagement  and  want  of 
patience.  Take  courage,  my  child  ;  be  firm,  gentle,  and 
brave,  and  all  will  be  well  sometime.  n 

Mason  Giles  had  been  a  devoted  lover  ;  but  when  the 
prize  was  won,  he  threw  off  all  disguise,  and  treated  his 
wife  according  to  the  instincts  of  his  sordid  nature. 
Indeed,  she  became  a  kind  of  safety-valve,  through  which 
his  selfishness  escaped,  and  made  him  appear  altogether 
better  to  neighbors  and  citizens.  His  farm  was  adjacent 
to  the  village,  and  Winnie  would  attend  the  village 
6 


82  HESTER     STRONG'S    LIFE    "WORK. 

school,  and  could  see  her  little  sisters  often.  That  was  a 
strong  inducement  to  Hester  ;  but  she  saw  great  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  her  going,  and  raised  objections.  But 
grandpa,  uncles,  and  aunts  were  against  her,  and  she 
consented  on  condition  that  at  the  end  of  the  year  she 
should  return  to  her  if  she  chose. 


A    TEAGIC    SCENE    IN    VILLAGE    LIFE.  83 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

A  TRAGIC  SCENE  IN  VILLAGE  LIFE. 

WALLACE  saw  and  heard  much  to  perplex  him  in  vil- 
lage life. 

"Why,  auntie,"  he  said  one  day,  "there  are  a  good 
many  boys  here  that  don't  mind  their  mothers  ;  and  they 
say  great,  big,  swear  words,  and  fight.  It  isn't  as  nice 
here  as  I  thought  it  was.  The  good  boys  do  it,  auntie." 

"  They  do  !  "  said  Hester  ;   "  who  are  they  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  minister's  little  boy  swore  ;  Jack  Stillman 
told  him  what  to  say,  arid  then  all  the  boys  laughed. 
Jack  told  him  to  say  it  to  the  old  man  when  he  got  home. 
0,  auntie,  won't  his  father  feel  sorry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  the  boys  were  very  wicked ;  but  little 
Willie  did  not  know  what  the  words  meant.  His  parents 
will  tell  him  they  are  naughty,  and  he  will  never  use  them 
again.  What  makes  you  think  the  boys  disobey  their 
mothers,  Wallace  ?  " 

Wallace  hung  his  head,  and  blushed. 

"  Yous  must  tell  auntie,"  said  Elida,  "  or  yous  will  be 
disobejent  youself." 

"  Yes,  tell  auntie,"  said  Winnie ;  "  we  ought  to  tell 
her  everything,  as  we  did  mamma." 

waited,  and  after  a  few  moments  Wallace  began. 

"  Well,  auntie,  you  know  you  forbid  my  going  to  the 


84  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

mill,  and  I  haven't;  but  the  boys,  tease  me  to  all  the 
time.  I  tell  them  you  don't  allow  it ;  and  they  laugh, 
and  call  me  '  baby '  and  you  an  '  old  fuss.'  I  threw  a 
stone  at  them,  though,  and  I  wish  I  had  hit  Jack,  he  is 
so  mean." 

"  0,  I  am  sorry  you  did  that,  Wallace,"  said  Hester. 
"  I  knew  a  boy  once  that  threw  a  stone  when  he  was 
angry,  and  hit  a  good  little  girl,  and  put  her  eye  out." 

"  0,  dear  !  "  said  Winnie,  covering  her  eyes.  "  Don't 
do  it  ever  again,  Wallace,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not ;  I  guess  not,  if  there  is  any  good  little 
girls  round." 

"  Fro  urn  easy,  Wallace,"  said  Elida,  "  so  God  won't 
know  it." 

"  0,"  said  Hester,  "  God  is  everywhere,  and  he  knows 
everything.  My  dear  boy,  I  hope  you  will  remember 
this.  Can't  you  find  some  good  little  boy  to  play  with  ?  " 

"  I  know  one,"  said  the  child,  "  but  his  clothes  are 
ragged." 

Hester  told  him  that  God  did  not  look  at  the  clothing 
of  the  body,  but  the  state  of  the  heart. 

"  A  good  child  covered  with  rags  is  more  pleasing  in 
his  sight  than  a  wicked  child  clothed  in  velvet.  God 
does  not  love  disobedient  children,  for  he  has  commanded 
them  to  obey." 

"  Has  he,  auntie  ?  "  said  Elida.  "  Why,  I  never  heard 
him  speak  'bout  it." 

Hester  smiled,  took  down  the  Bible,  and  said,  — 

"  It  is  in  this  ;  I  will  read  it  to  you." 

"  Well,"  said  Wallace,  "  those  boys  don't  keep  the 
commandment." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Hester ;  "  God  will  not  bless  them 


A    TRAGIC    SCENE    IN    VILLAGE    LIFE.  85 

if  they  do  so  ;  and  they  are  on  forbidden  ground,  and 
are  in  danger  of  becoming  very  wicked  men,  and  may 
be  left  to  commit  some  fearful  crime,  and  pay  the  pen- 
alty with  their  lives." 

"  0,  auntie,  I  am  afraid  somebody  has  committed  one 
now,"  said  Winnie,  springing  from  the  window.  "  See, 
they  are  carrying  somebody  into  Mr.  Gray's." 

"  0,  that  is  where  the  ragged  boy  lives,"  said  Wallace  ; 
"  his  mother  drinks  rum  ;  the  boys  tease  him  about  it." 

"  I  hope  you  have  not,"  said  Hester,  sorrowfully. 

"Do  she  get  intosticated' ? "  said  little  Elida.  "I 
didn't  know  mammas  ever  did  so.  0,  how  funny  !  " 

Hester  saw  that  people  were  coming  and  going  —  that  a 
crowd  was  collecting  around  Mr.  Gray's.  She  thought 
it  must  be  something  more  than  intoxication.  Leaving 
the  baby  with  the  children,  she  went  to  see  if  her  assist- 
ance was  needed. 

0,  what  a  spectacle  met  her  !  Mrs.  Gray,  when  alone 
with  her  baby,  had  emptied  the  contents  of  a  tin  pail, 
which  the  village  demon  had  filled  for  her  that  morning, 
taking  the  very  food  from  the  little  children's  mouths  in 
payment,  immediately  after  the  distressed  husband  had 
besought  him  not  to  furnish  her  with  it. 

"  I  want  to  get  an  honest  living,"  was  his  reply.  "  It 
is  my  business  to  sell ;  if  people  make  a  bad  use  of  it, 
why,  it  is  their  lookout,  not  mine.  I  have  the  law  on 
my  side,  I  believe." 

"Yes,"  said  the  perplexed  husband,  "you  have  a 
wicked,  perverse  law  on  your  side,  made  by  wicked  and 
perverse  men,  bound  to  live  on  the  poor  man's  toil ;  but 
God's  laws  are  against  you,  and  he  will  vindicate  my 
cause. 


86  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  You  show  no  mercy  to  me,  or  my  worse  than  mother- 
less children  ;  and  if  God  is  true,  you  will  receive  none. 
But  I  beg  of  you,  Mr.  Stillman,  not  to  let  her  have  any 
to-day  ;  for  I  must  leave  home  to  work,  or  let  them  all 
starve.  The  children  are  not  safe  with  her,  especially 
the  baby,  for  an  hour,  when  she  has  it." 

"  Every  one  to  his  calling,"  was  the  unfeeling  reply ; 
and  so  she  went  again  with  her  tin  pail,  and  all  the  pork 
the  house  contained  in  it ;  and  that  hireling  of  Satan 
took  it,  and  gave  her  the  fatal  draught  which  took  away 
her  reason,  and  made  her  an  inanimate,  loathsome  thing. 

She  had  fallen  near  the  open  fire,  and  the  little  innocent 
baby's  face  was  buried  in  the  hot  embers,  where  its  voice 
was  soon  hushed  in  death.  Yes,  it  lay  there,  a  naked, 
blighted  little  corpse. 

Hester  found  it  lying  there.  "  Thank  God,"  she  said 
fervently,  "  that  the  angel  of  death  was  sent  so  swiftly 
to  unlock  the  door  of  life  for  this  little  sufferer." 

The  inebriate  mother,  all  unconscious  of  her  own  con- 
dition, or  her  baby's  fate,  lay  there  tossing  her  blistered, 
unsightly  limbs  hither  and  thither  in  mortal  anguish. 
Her  clothing  had  apparently  taken  fire  from  the  infant's, 
but  she  felt  not  the  scorching  heat  until  it  was  nearly 
burned  off. 

Then  her  benumbed  faculties  were  aroused  sufficiently 
for  her  to  arise  and  stagger  towards  the  store,  which  was 
very  near.  She  fell  in  a  few  moments,  convulsed  with 
agony.  Kidder  Stillman  was  the  first  to  discover  her 
terrible  situation,  and  when  a  crowd  gathered,  he  went 
also  among  them.  Hester  saw  that  she  was  not  needed, 
and  the  scene  was  too  appalling  to  gaze  on  from  idle  curi- 
osity. Nothing  could  be  done  for  Helen  Gray:  Her 


A    TRAGIC    SCENE    IN    VILLAGE    LIFE.  87 

strong  physical  powers  might  enable  her  to  struggle 
terrifically  for  an  hour  or  two,  but  death  was  sure  of  its 
victim. 

"  Kidder  Stillman,"  said  Hester,  mournfully,  "you  see 
what  rum  has  done.  Isn't  it  awful  ?  Have  you  seen  the 
innocent  baby  ?  Go  look  at  it ;  what  if  it  was  yours  ? 
Look  at  that  woman  ;  she  is  a  wife ;  what  if  it  were  your 
wife  ?  It  might  have  been.  Helen  was  once  fair,  and 
bright,  and  strong.  She  has  been  ruined  by  a  weapon  you 
placed  in  her  hand.  Don't  tell  me  it  is  your  calling :  I 
know  it  is.  Satan  called  you  to  it,  just  the  same  as  he 
calls  the  gambler  to  gamble,  the  thief  to  steal,  the  mur- 
derer to  kill.  Your  calling  is  just  as  honest  as  theirs  ; 
not  more  so  ;  you  can't  prosper  in  it  always.  0,  let  this 
most  awful  sight  my  eyes  ever  beheld  be  a  warning  to 
you,  and  cease  from  your  work  of  death." 

Hester  returned  home  with  an  indescribable  feeling  of 
sadness.  The  children  met  her,  eager  to  learn  what  had 
happened.  She  disliked  to  chill  and  sadden  them  with 
the  recital  of  such  a  scene  ;  she  softened  the  circun%- 
stances  as  much  as  possible,  and  even  then,  they  were 
very  much  shocked. 

"  Where  did  she  put  the  baby  when  she  fell  down  ?  " 
said  Winnie. 

"  0,  it  has  gone  to  sleep,"  said  Hester. 

"  What  will  it  do  when  it  wakes  up  ?  "  said  Winnie  ; 
"  won't  it  cry  after  its  mother  ?  " 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  Hester  ;  "  God  will  take  care  of  it." 

"  Isn't  he  dood,  auntie  ?  He  takes  care  of  all  the 
children  that  hasn't  got  no  mothers.  0,  he  is  nice.  I 
love  him,"  said  Elida. 

"Well/'  said  Wallace,  "Jack  Stillrnan's  father  sold 


88  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

the  rum,  I  s'pose  —  didn't  he  ?  Jack  drinks  it.  I  mean 
to  call  him  Jack  JK/Zman  now." 

"And  you  t'row  a  'tone  at  him,"  said  little  Elida, 
"when  there  ain't  no  dood  girls  round  —  won't  you, 
Wallace  ?  He  is  a  naughty  boy." 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  Hester,  "  if  you  indulge  in 
such  things  you  will  be  on  dangerous  ground  ;  and  then 
you  will  go  from  one  wrong  act  to  another,  from  one  sin 
to  another,  and  perhaps  you  will  become  wicked  enough 
to  sell  rum,  or  drink  it.  And  then  you  won't  know 
what  you  are  about,  and  may  do  some  awful  deed,  or 
come  to  a  terrible  end,  as  poor  Mrs.  Gray  has.  And  be 
sure,  Wallace,  to  avoid  John  Stillman  as  much  as  possi- 
ble. He  is  a  vile,  bad  boy." 

"  Yes,  auntie,  I  will ;  and  shouldn't  you  think  he 
would  be  ashamed  to  tease  us  little  boys  so  when  he  is 
such  a  great  big  boy  ?  "  said  Wallace.  "  Shall  I  speak 
to  that  poor  ragged  boy,  and  take  hold  of  his  hand  when 
the  boys  tease  him,  and  lick  um  if  they  don't  mind  ? 
^hat  won't  be  wicked  — will  it,  auntie  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  wrong  to  fight,"  said  Hester.  "  If  he 
were  insulted  and  abused,  and  you  were  strong  enough 
to  defend  him,  that  would  be  right ;  but  you  are  only  a 
little  boy,  and  must  content  yourself  with  kind  words." 

"  Mayn't  I  give  him  my  new  picture-book,  auntie  — 
it  will  please  him." 

"Yes,"  said  Hester,  "  I  think  that  will  be  a  good 
plan." 

"  And  here's  my  baby-dollie,"  said  Elida.  "  May  I 
gis  her  to  the  'ittle  girl  ?  You  see  her  mother  is  all 
burned  up  amost,  and  can't  make  her  any  now,  for  Mr. 
Killman  made  her  intosticated — all  dead  eny  most.  You 
can  make  me  another  some  day." 


A    TRAGIC    SCENE    IN    VILLAGE    LIFE.  89 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Hester,  "  that  I  shall  have  time  ; 
perhaps  you  had  better  keep  that  one.77 

Elida  thought  for  a  moment,  looked  at  her  baby,  and 
finally  concluded  to  give  up  her  treasure. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I'll  gis  it  to  her  ;  I's  got  a  'ittle 
waked  up  sister  to  play  wis  me.77 

And  the  heroine  folded  her  chubby  hands,  and  gave  a 
sigh  of  regret,  or  relief  perhaps,  that  the  deed  was  done. 

"0,  hum!77  said  the  little  thing.  "I  hope  they 
won't  gis  my  dollie  any  sugar  wis  rum  to  it  over  there, 
or  she  will  be  a  7nebraite.  I  shan't  be  there  to  shake 
my  head  and  look  sorry,  as  mamma  iised  to.  One  time 
papa  said,  '  Sissy,  take  it,  and  papa  will  gis  you  a  stick 
of  candy.7 ' 

"  What  did  you  do  then,  darling  ?  77 

"  My  mamma  looked  a  *ittle,  and  I  runned  and  put 
my  head  in  her  lap,  and  said,  '  Peep-boo,  papa,  peep- 
aboo  ! 77 

"  What  did  papa  say  then  ?  " 

"  0,  he  laughed  a  7ittle,  and  drinked  it  all  up.77 

"  But  what  is  the  matter,  pet  ?  "  said  Hester,  as  she 
observed  Winnie  weeping  very  quietly.  "  What  is  the 
matter,  dear  ?  77 

"  Why,  auntie,  I  wish,  0,  I  wish  God  would  let  mo 
go  to  mamma,  I  feel  so  bad.77 

"  Why,  darling  child,  what  makes  you  feel  so  ?  Don't 
you  love  me  and  little  brother  and  sisters  ?  77 

"  Yes,  auntie,  I  love  you  all  ;  but  everybody  dies  so  ! 
My  sweet  mamma,  my  good,  kind  grandpa  Lentell,  and 
my  grandma  Lovcring,  have  all  died,77  sobbed  the  child  ; 
"  and  now  somebody  is  wicked,  and  Mrs.  Gray  is  burned. 
0,  auntie,  most  everybody  acts  so  that  I  want  to  die 
before  I  go  to  live  with  aunt  Elcvia.77 


90  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIKE    WORK. 

Hester  saw  that  the  child  had  been  looking-  too  much 
at  the  dark  side  of  life  for  her  sensitive  nature,  aud  strove 
to  turn  her  thoughts  into  a  different  channel. 

Baby's  wonderful  perfections  never  failed  to  delight 
the  children.  She  was  "  so  cunning,"  "  so  sweet," 
"  such  a  darling."  There  never  was  her  equal,  so  they 
all  thought ;  they  loved  her  so  Hester  had  only  to  hold 
her  up,  or  let  her  jump  and  crow,  and  immediately  sad- 
ness disappeared  as  if  by  magic. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Hester,  "that  Christmas  is 
coming  by  and  by  ?  Old  St.  Nicholas  will  be  round 
with  his  bag  full  of  presents.  We  must  all  have  our 
stockings  ready.  I  don't  think  he  will  pass  us  by  —  do 
you,  Winnie  ?  " 

The  child  drew  nearer  to  Hester,  and  taking  baby's 
hand,  smiled  a  sad,  timid  smile. 

"  He  can't  get  much  in  her  little  bit  of  a  sock — can 
he,  auntie  ?  Yours  will  hold  the  most  —  won't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  suppose  we  hang  up  a  lot  of  mine  ?  Per- 
haps the  old  gentleman  won't  notice  the  difference. 
How  will  that  do  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Winnie,  earnestly.  "  I  should 
like  a  big  stocking  full  ;  but  then  I  shouldn't  know 
which  was  mine,  or  yours,  or  Wallace's  ;  and  he  would 
know  that  Elida  and  baby  hadn't  such  big  feet.  Be- 
sides, I'm  afraid  he  wouldn't  have  presents  enough  to 
go  all  "round.  No,  auntie,  the  right  way  is  the  best." 

"  I  shall  hang  up  both  of  mine,"  said  Wallace.  "  If 
he  wants  more  room  he  can  have  it." 

"  I,  too,"  echoed  Elida.  "  If  he  wises  to  gis  me  a 
'ittle  pony,  he  can  tie  it  to  the  table  —  can't  he,  auntie  ? 
and  he  can  leave  my  candy  on  the  top.  0,  dear  me, 
hum  !  Won't  it  be  funny  ?  " 


A    THAGIC    SCENE    IN    VILLAGE    LIFE.  91 

"  I  wouldn't  say  '  hum  !  '  darling,"  said  Hester  ; 
"  but  I  will  tell  you  what  we  will  do.  We  will  spend 
the  day  at  uncle  Frank's,  if  it  is  pleasant,  and  leave  our 
stockings  hanging  up." 

"  That  will  be  funny,"  said  little  Sunshine,  as  Hester 
called  her. 

And  so,  with  pleasant  thoughts  in  their  young  minds, 
she  listened  to  their  evening  prayer,  and  kissed  them  a 
sweet  good  night. 

Winnie  lingered. 

"  What  is  wanting  ?  "  said  Hester,  pleasantly. 

"  I  want  to  know  if  my  papa  drinks  rum  now,  auntie. 
He  told  ma,  in  the  letter,  he  never  would." 

"  I  can't  exactly  tell,"  said  Hester.  "  I  haven't  seen 
him,  you  know.  I  want  my  pet  to  look  bright  to- 
morrow, for  I  am  going  to  let  her  visit  Susie  Trueman. 
So  go  to  bed  now." 

"  0,  auntie,  she  won't  want  to  play  with  me  if  my  papa 
drinks  rum.  Let  me  stay  with  you  all  the  time." 

Hester  was  affected  to  tears  by  the   sadness  of  the* 
child.       She    was    too    young    to    taste   the  wormwood 
and    the    gall  of   life.      She    laid    little    Fostina   in    the 
cradle,  took  Winnie  in  her  arms,  and  folded  her  to*  her 
bosom. 

"  What  is  it  that  troubles  my.  pet  so  ?  Tell  auntie  all 
about  it ;  auntie  loves  her." 

"  0,  I  miss  my  mamma  so  !  I  love  you,  too  ;  but  I 
want  mamma.  If  I  had  a  papa  to  love  me,  it  would  do," 
she  sobbed;  "  but  I  am  afraid  he  is  on  the  forbidden 
ground,  and  will  do  something  bad.  0,  auntie,  if  God 
would  let  me  go  to  heaven,  it  would  be  so  kind,  or  make 
me  a  Christian,  like  you." 


92  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

Hester  smoothed  the  bright  brown  hair  tenderly,  won- 
dering1 what  she  should  do  to  comfort  her. 

"  Little  one,"  she  said,  "  did  I  ever  tell  you  how  my 
father  and  mother  died  when  I  was  a  little  infant,  leaving 
me  without  brother  or  sister,  uncle  or  aunt  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Winnie  ;   "  tell  me  about  it." 

So  Hester  began  the  oft-repeated  tale,  making  it  grow 
brighter  and  brighter  as  she  proceeded. 

"  Hasn't  God  been  good  to  me  ?  "  she  said,  in  conclu- 
sion. 

"  Yes,"  said  Winnie  ;  "  but  you  are  good,  too." 

"Not  very,"  said  Hester;  "but  God  will  be  good  to 
you,  my  child.  He  wants  you  down  here  for  something. 
You  must  ask  him  to  make  you  willing  to  stay.  Sub- 
mission to  God  is  what  you  need.  You  must  pray  to 
him,  darling ;  ask  him  to  help  you  be  good  and  happy, 
and  he  will.  That  is  the  way  I  did.  We  must  be  will- 
ing to  do  just  what  God  wants  us  to,  and  then  he  will 
be  pleased  with  us  and  bless  us.  He  says,  '  Those  that 
•seek  me  early  shall  find  me.'  Now  go  to  sleep,  dear, 
and  auntie  will  rock  you,  just  as  I  do  my  little  bit  of  a 
pet." 


ME.    TRUEMAN'S    FAMILY.  93 


CHAPTER     IX. 

MR.  TRUEMAN'S  FAMILY.  —  PLEASANT  MEMORIES. 

"  ALONZO,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  "  you  remember  Har- 
mony Lovering  ? " 

"  Yes ;  she  married  that  famous  Mr.  Lentell,  I  be- 
lieve." 

"  Did  you  know  she  was  dead,  and  that  her  four  chil- 
dren are  living  at  Mr.  Manlie's  with  Hester  Strong?" 

"  No,  indeed  ;  is  that  so  ?     Where  is  her  husband?  " 

"  Worse  than  dead.  They  tell  me  he  has  become  a 
real  sot,  and  that  Harmony  died  of  neglect.  I  hear  a 
great  deal  said  about  old  Mrs.  Lentell ;  I  don't  know 
how  much  truth  there  is  in  it ;  but  if  half  is  true,  she  is 
a  monster  of  selfishness,  and  as  different  from  your 
mother  as  sin  from  holiness.  I  mean  to  see  Hester  soon, 
and  know  the  truth  of  these  stories,  and  see  if  I  cannot 
help  her  in  some  way.  Only  think  of  it !  At  her  time 
of  life,  with  four  children,  and  one  a  baby  !  " 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  would  go  over,  Linnic,"  said  Mr. 
Trueman,  thoughtfully.  "  We  owe  Hester  a  great  debt 
of  gratitude.  Do  you  know  I  think  she  saved  your  life 
when  you  were  so  sick,  after  Gcorgie  and  Freddie  died  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  not  know  you  thought  me  in  danger  ;  but 
it  did  seem  to  me  that  I  could  not  have  lived  without 
her.  I  never  shall  forget  the  restful  feeling  which  came 
over  me  after  she  came  ;  and  I  cannot  tell  any  one  how 


94  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

tired  and  restless  I  was  before.  It  did  seem  as  if  I  could 
never  rest  again  on  earth,  and  I  felt  willing  to  die  even, 
and  leave  you  and  all,  if  I  could  only  rest.  I  never  can 
describe  the  feeling  of  relief  I  experienced  when  llester 
put  her  arms  around  me  and  kissed  me,  saying,  '  Poor 
child,  I  know  it  all.  There,  now  you  can  cry  all 'you 
wish  to ;  it  will  relieve  you.  Jesus  wept  at  the  grave 
of  a  friend.'  0,  it  was  so  different  from  what  others 
said  !  Even  you,  dear,  thought  it  would  hurt  me  to 
weep,  and  never  spoke  of  the  children  in  my  presence  ; 
so  my  grief  lay  like  a  mountain  of  lead  on  my  heart  ;  it 
was  crushing,  crushing  the  life  out  of  me.  Hester 
seemed,  in  some  way,  to  put  her  strong,  loving  soul 
next  to  mine,  and  lift  the  mighty  burden,  so  that  I  could 
rest  and  sleep.  She  did  not  talk  much  at  first,  but  al- 
lowed me  to,  until  my  feelings  were  relieved.  Then 
I  seemed  to  doze  for  a  long  time.  I  couldn't  feel 
the  burden  ;  I  only  realized  that  I  was  weary,  0,  so 
weary  !  and  that  Hester  was  tending  me  —  watching 
me  —  loving  me.  What  is  it,  Alonzo,  that  makes  Hes- 
ter so  acceptable  to  the  sick  and  afflicted  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  unless  it  is  religion.  She  is  a  per- 
son of  strong,  decided  character,  but  perfectly  under  the 
influence  of  the  law  of  love  to  God  and  love  to  man. 
She  comes  the  nearest  to  my  standard  of  .Christian  char- 
acter of  any  one  I  know." 

"  Yes,  I  think  so  ;  but  all  Christians  cannot  minister 
to  the  sick  and  suffering  as  she  does.  It  seems  to  me 
she  is  especially  set  apart  for  that  peculiar  work.  She 
must  have  received  a  baptism  of  suffering  herself." 

"  Possibly  it  may  be  so,'7  was  the  reply.  "  I  think 
I  used  to  hear  father  and  mother  speak  of  a  disappoint- 


PLEASANT    MEMORIES.  95 

rncnt  she  met  with  when  young  ;  and  then  it  is  evident 
ncr  heart  has  always  been  in  her  work.  She  has  made 
it  the  study  of  her  life  to  be  useful,  and  has  fairly  earned 
the  reputation  she  enjoys.  I  wonder  what  the  sick  will 
do  now  ?  " 

"  Some  one  will  be  raised  up  to  fill  her  place,  I  pre- 
sume. I  hope  those  children  will  find  homes  soon,  for 
her  sake." 

"  She  is  sixty,  I  believe  ;  but  it  doesn't  seem  possible. 
Her  heart  never  will  grow  old.  I  can't  understand  it ; 
she  has  worked  hard.  It  must  be  one  of  the  mysteries 
of  godliness,  I  think.  But  I  wish  you  would  go  and  seo 
her,  and  find  out  in  what  way  we  can  help  her  bear  her 
burdens." 

"  I  will  go  this  afternoon,  and  to-night  we  will  talk  it 
over,  if  alone  ;  and  I  hope  we  may  be,  for  it  seems  a 
long  time  since  we  have  had  an  evening  all  to  ourselves." 

After  tea,  Mr.  Trueman  inquired,  — 

"  How  did  you  find  Hester  and  the  babies,  Linnie  ?  " 

"  I  found  them  well  and  happy.  Wiry,  Hester  has 
adopted  the  two  youngest ;  the  others  are  going  to  their 
new  homes  in  the  spring.  I  think  it  is  a  real  trial  to 
Hester  to  let  them  go." 

"  How  about  Harmony  and  her  husband,  and  the  old 
lady  that  rumor  brands  as  a  monster  ?  " 

"  0,  it  is  all  true,  and  the  half  had  not  been  told  me. 
Do  you  know  I  love  and^  venerate  the  memory  of  your 
dear  parents  more  than  ever  since  hearing  Hester's  story  ? 
What  a  happy  lot  mine  has  been  !  I  don't  suppose  I 
knew  any  more  about  work  than  Harmony  did  ;  but 
your  mother  didn't  seem  to  expect  me  to  know  every- 
thing about  housekeeping.  She  used  to  praise  and 


96  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

encourage  me  all  the  time.  When  I  made  a  mistake, 
and  felt  badly,  she  used  to  tell  of  one  she  made  when 
she  commenced  housekeeping  in  such  a  funny  way  that 
I  couldn't  help  laughing,  and  that  made  it  easy,  you 
see." 

"  Well,  did  you  find  out  anything  we  could  do  to  help 
Hester  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  brought  home  a  lot  of  sewing  for  the  chil- 
dren. And  when  I  urged  Hester  to  let  me  do  more,  she 
intimated  that  Christmas  presents  would  be  acceptable. 
We  are  to  leave  them  at  Mr.  Manlie's.  They  are  pretty 
children  —  all  of  them.  I  wish  I  could  have  the  baby. 
She  is  not  a  beauty,  in  one  sense,  and  yet  she  is  strange- 
ly fascinating.  Her  eyes  are  like  her  mother's,  only 
more  beautiful,  with  a  peculiar  expression  —  half  sad, 
half  mirthful.  She  seemed  to  read  my  face  very  atten- 
tively, and  then  reached  out  her  arms  to  me  with  so 
much  quiet  confidence  that  she  fairly  won  my  heart.  I 
could  not  help  weeping  when  Hester  told  me  how  sad 
little  Winnie  is  at  times.  She  is  more  thoughtful  than 
most  children,  and  very  sensitive.  I  told  Susie  to  invite 
her  to  spend  the  day  with  her,  but  Hester  could  not  pre- 
vail on  her  to  come.  She  said  Susie  wouldn't  want  to 
play  with  her,  because  her  father  drank  rum.  Isn't  it  a 
shame,  Alonzo,  this  whole  liquor  business  ?  Can't  some- 
thing be  done  to  stop  this  nefarious  traffic  ?  Only  think 
of  Mrs.  Gray  !  How  awful  !  Q,  how  I  pity  her  husband 
and  children !  There  is  no  end  to  the  misery  it  brings 
upon  mankind.  I  should  like  to  sink  every  still-house 
and  dram-shop  down  into  the  bottomless  pit.  There  ! 
now  I'll  stop,  or  I  fear  I  shall  want  to  pitch  the  ruui- 
scllers  after  them,  and  do  wicked  things  to  fathers  who 
fill  the  hearts  of  their  children  with  sorrow  and  shame." 


PLEASANT    MEMORIES.  97 

"  Then  you  didn't  moan  Kidder  Stillman,"  said  Mr. 
Truemau.  "  I  have  something  of  that  feeling  towards 
him  since  that  terrible  tragedy.  It  seems  worse  for  a 
woman  to  die  in  that  way." 

"  Yes,  it  does  seem  worse.  I  am  thankful  it  is  not  very 
common,  for  I  really  think  that,  bad  as  it  is  for  husbands 
and  fathers  to  become  brute  beasts,  the  children  suffer 
less  than  when  the  mother  pursues  the  same  wretched 
course.  I  do  wish  something  could  be  done  to  stop  the 
sale  of  the  poison  stuff.  It  makes  me  wicked  to  think 
of  it.  I  didn't  think  of  Kidder  when  I  spoke  ;  but  I  own 
that,  as  I  went  past  there  to-day,  I  fairly  loathed  the 
sight  of  him.  I  confess,  I  compared  him  to  a  certain  cloven- 
footed  character  we  read  of,  and  the  store  to  his  den." 

"  Why,  Linnic,"  said  Mr.  Trueman,  "  is  it  possible  ? 
I  thought  I  was  alone  in  that  feeling.  But  it  does  ex- 
asperate me  exceedingly  to  see  such  miserly  selfishness. 
There  is  no  help  for  it,  though,  while  man  remains  a 
depraved  being,  unless  the  strong  arm  of  the  law  can 
be  brought  to  bear  on  one  side,  and  Christian  courage 
and  fortitude  on  the  other.  But  you  must  try  to  make 
Winnie  feel  that  we  respect  her  in  spite  of  her  misfor- 
tunes. It  is  one  of  the  saddest  features  of  intemperance 
that  innocent  women  and  children  suffer  more  than  the 
guilty  subjects." 

"  Yes,  I  shall  try  to.     I  have  invited  her  to  spend  the 

.'ftcr  Christmas  with  us,  and  I  shall  invite  a  number 

of  little  girls  in  the  afternoon,  so  that  she  may  become 

acquainted.     She  is  going  to  live  with  her  aunt  Elevia  in 

the  spring,  and  will  attend  our  school." 

"  That  is  right ;  do  what  you  can  for  her,"  said  Mr. 
Trueman.  "  I  am  glad  she  is  going  there  ;  Mr.  Giles  is 


98  nESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

very  much  of  a  gentleman,  and  wealthy.     She  will  be 
well  cared  for." 

"  I  fear  not,"  was  the  reply.  "  Hester  does  not  feel 
so.  She  intimated  that  he  is  not  what  he  seems  to  be  ; 
but  pray  don't  speak  of  it ;  it  may  not  be  so.  And  yet 
Hester  is  seldom  wrong,  you  know.  But  don't  forget 
the  presents." 


ME.    AND    MES.    STILLMAN.  99 


CHAPTER    X. 

MR.  AND  MRS.  STILLMAN.  —  A  DOMESTIC  SCENE. 

"  MARIA,"  said  Mr.  Stillman,  "  I  want  you  to  go  to 
the  city  to-morrow,  and  get  a  new  velvet  bonnet,  and  a 
cloak  of  some  kind.  Mind,  now,  you  get  something 
that  will  put  Mrs.  Trueman  and  Mrs.  Steele  all  in  the 
shade.  I  am  doing  more  business  than  their  husbands  are, 
- —  that  is,  in  some  branches,  —  and  I  want  people  to  know 
it.  Don't  mind  expense.  I  want  you  to  look  better  than 
any  one  at  church.  John  and  Clara  look  first  rate  in 
their  winter  suits.  That  Trueman  is  a  mean  puppy,  croak- 
ing round  about  temperance.  This  is  a  free  country,  I 
want  him  to  understand.  But  sometimes  I  wish  it 
wasn't ;  for  I  would  like  to  stop  some  of  this  noise  about 
the  sin  of  rum-selling.  That  mean,  contemptible  Steete  is 
trying  to  undersell  me  ;  but  we'll  see,"  —  snapping  his 
fingers.  "  I  know  a  trick  worth  two  of  that.  Water  is 
cheap." 

"  Yes,  we  shall  see,"  sighed  Mrs.  Stillman.  "  Kidder, 
I  begin  to  see  now,  and  feel  too,  that  rum-selling  is  a 
sin  —  an  abominable  sin.  I  wish  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart  you  had  never  engaged  in  it.  I  wish  you  would 
give  it  up.  It  is  a  curse  to  us,  and  always  will  be." 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Mr.  Stillman,  starting  up  and 
walking  round  the  room  resolutely.  "  Maria,  what's  to 
pay  ?  I  thought  you  had  got  rid  of  those  whims  and 


100  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

notions.  Has  the  parson  been  talking-  to  you  ?  Say, 
what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"No/'  said  Maria,  emphatically,  "he  hasn't;  but  I 
begin  to  see  for  myself.  I  don't  know  how  I  can  help 
it.  John  is  being  ruined  by  the  influence  of  rum,  and 
the  company  it  draws  to  the  store.  You  must  be  blind, 
or  you  would  see  that  he  is." 

"  I  can't,  then  ;  but  I  hope  I  haven't  got  to  hear  tem- 
perance at  home,  as  well  as  abroad.  I  won't  have  it, 
Maria.  Why,  that  canting  hypocrite  Trueman  called  at 
the  store  to-day,  and  tried  to  induce  me  to  give  up  sell- 
ing liquor.  The  dog !  he  knows  I  get  other  custom  by 
keeping  it." 

"  Yes,  and  lose  some.  Kidder,  we  are  disgraced  for- 
ever by  that  affair  of  Mrs.  Gray's.  How  came  you  to 
let  her  have  it  ?  Why,  I  am  so  mortified  I  don't  want 
to  meet  anybody.  How  could  you  take  that  little  piece 
of  pork  ?  It  was  a  shame.  It  is  all  over  town.  The 
children  sing  out,  '  Pork,  pork '  to  John.  They  call 
him  Jack  Killraan  now  ;  and  Clara  says  the  girls  whisper 
and  draw  back  when  she  comes  near  them :  it  is 
awful." 

"  They  are  envious,  I  suppose,"  was  the  curt  reply, 
"  because  my  family  dress  better  than  they.  Trading  is 
my  business,  Maria.  I  am  not  to  inquire  into  the  pecu- 
liar circumstances  of  my  customers.  I  should  like  to  see 
myself  doing  it.  How  did  I  know  Lot  earned  that  pork 
doing  chores  for  Mr.  Manlie  ?  How  did  I  know  they 
hadn't  a  barrel  full  ?  " 

"Why,  Kidder  Stillman,  you  did  know  they  hadn't  a 
barrel  of  pork,  nor  anything  like  it.  You  might  have 
known  it  was  all  they  had.  And  they  say  Mr.  Gray 


ME.    AND    MRS.    STILLMAN.  101 

called  on  you  that  morning,  and  begged  of  you  not  to 
let  her  have  any.  Was  that  so  ?  Tell  me,  Kidder ;  did 
he?" 

"  Well,  what  if  he  did  ?  I  tell  you  it  is  ray  business 
to  sell,  and  ask  no  questions.  I  paid  for  a  license  ;  and 
how  did  I  know  she  would  get  in  the  fire  ?  She  was  a 
nuisance,  any  way." 

"  How  came  she  to  be  a  nuisance,  Kidder  Stillman  ? 
That  is  the  question.  You  can't  deny  that  Helen  Gray 
was  a  nice,  respectable  woman  when  you  came  to  the 
village.  Hasn't  she  bought  all  she  drank  of  you  ?  You 
can't  deny  that,  either.  I  don't  think  there  is  another 
store  in  the  place  where  she  could  have  bought  it.  I,  for 
one,  am  heartily  ashamed  of  you." 

"  There  now,  that  is  what  I  get  for  working  to  dress 
you  and  the  children  in  fine  clothes.  But  I  tell  you  to 
stop  your  lecturing,  Maria  ;  I  can't  hear  it." 

"  But  you  will  have  to  hear  it.  I  have  lain  awake 
half  the  night  ever  since  I  saw  that  little  burned  infant 
and  its  mother.  0,  mercy,  what  a  sight  1  They  are 
right  before  me  all  the  time.  0,  Kidder,  I  felt  like  a 
guilty  accomplice  in  the  horrid  deed ;  you  don't  know 
what  I  have  suffered  ever  since.  Why,  I  had  rather  be 
clothed  in  rags  the  rest  of  my  life  than  to  wear  the  price 
of  so  much  sin,  and  misery,  and  death.  I  never  saw  the 
business  in  its  true  light  before  —  never.  I  only  looked 
at  the  beautiful  things  it  purchased  for  me  and  mine  — 
blindly,  foolishly.  I  have  now  looked  at  the  wretched- 
ness and  rags,  the  poverty  and  shame,  it  brings  to  the 
consumer ;  and  now  my  nice  house,  my  beautiful  dresses, 
everything  we  have,  is  stained  all  over  with  guilt. 
Wherever  I  look,  I  see  something  like  the  terrible  hand 


102  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

on  the  wall,  writing,  '  This  is  the  price  of  tears,  of  mis- 
ery, of  hunger,  ay,  of  blood.'  I  can't  bear  it,  Kidder  ; 
you  must  stop,  or  I  shall  be  insane." 

Mr.  Stillman  began  to  be  alarmed  at  his  wife's  state 
of  mind. 

"  Well,  well,  Maria,  don't  talk  about  it  now ;  you  arc 
nervous.  You  ought  not  to  have  gone  over  to  Mrs. 
Gray's.  It  almost  undid  me.  I  had  to  be  resolute,  and 
drive  the  subject  out  of  mind.  I  thought  I'd  give  up 
the  business  right  off;  but  what's  the  use,  Maria  ?  There 
is  Steele  and  others  ;  they'd  sell  it  if  I  didn't.  I  might 
as  well  have  the  profits  as  any  one  ;  but  I  shall  look  out 
not  to  sell  it  to  a  foolish  woman  with  a  baby  to  burn  up 
again.  Trust  me  for  that.  Steele  may  have  that  kind 
of  customers  for  all  I  care.  Come,  you'd  better  go  to 
the  city,  and  buy  those  things ;  it  will  take  up  your 
mind." 

"  But  I  don't  want  my  mind  taken  up  ;  I  am  satisfied 
it  is  wrong  to  sell  rum.  My  eyes  are  opened  :  I  don't 
want  to  have  them  closed  again  by  gewgaws.  I  have 
thought  altogether  too  much  of  dress  and  show.  My 
love  of  them  has  almost  blinded  me  to  the  evils  of  in- 
temperance ;  and  yet  I  never  thought  it  was  right  to  sell 
it.  I  have  had  my  secret  fears  for  John  ;  and  now  I  sec 
plainly  that,  unless  something  is  done  immediately,  he  is 
a  ruined  boy.  He  is  rude  and  coarse  at  home,  and  is 
continually  repeating  some  low  vulgarism  he  has  heard 
at  the  store.  And  Clara  is  ashamed  of  him  when  they 
are  out  together.  Poor  child  !  he  is  becoming  a  town's 
talk  ;  good  children  shun  him." 

"  0,  come,  Maria,  you  are  nervous.  John  will  do  well 
enough  —  sowing  wild  oats  you  see.  He  is  smart ;  that's 


A    DOMESTIC    SCENE.  103 

all ;  none  of  your  milk-and-water  folks.  He  will  come  out 
right ;  don't  worry.  Come  now,  don't  act  so.  Here,  I 
will  give  you  some  money,  and  you  go  in  to-morrow  and 
buy  what  you  need.  I  don't  want  you  to  go  looking 
shabbily  ;  it  will  injure  rny  trade." 

"  I  don't  wish  for  any  money  ;  I  can't  think  of  going, 
and  I  don't  need  anything  but  a  clear  conscience  to  make 
me  happy.  You  are  a  kind  husband  ;  we  have  been 
happy  together,  and  may  be  again  if  you  will  give  up 
selling  liquor  ;  we  can  live  comfortably  without  the  profits, 
and  I  shall  be  a  thousand  times  happier." 

"  Why,  Maria,  you  talk  foolishly.  "We  couldn't  half 
live  if  I  were  to  give  that  up." 

"  We  don't  more  than  half  live  now,  and  never  have  ; 
I  mean  as  we  ought  to,"  said  the  dejected  wife,  still 
weeping.  "  But  I  had  rather  die  than  live  by  cursing 
and  killing  others.  Come,  Kicldcr,  do  please,  now,  give  it 
up.  We  shall  never  be  prosperous  and  happy  till  you 
do.  I  fear  I  have  been  as  much  to  blame  in  the  past  as 
you  have  ;  but  I  can't  sustain  you  in  it  after  this,  and  I 
shall  never  consent  to  spend  a  cent  of  money  obtained 
in  this  way  again.  Won't  you  promise  me  ?  "  She  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  looked  tearfully  into 
his  face. 

"  I  can't  promise,  Maria ;  I  will  think  of  it.  I  couldn't 
bear  to  see  my  family  poor,  or  meanly  dressed.  I  am 
sorry  you  feel  so  ;  but  my  stopping  would  make  no  dif- 
ference ;  somebody'll  sell  it ;  they'll  get  it  somewhere. 
I'll  see  about  it." 

"  Never  mind,  Kidder ;  let  others  sell  it  if  they  will, 
and  reap  the  reward  ;  but  promise  me  that  you  won't," 
persisted  the  awakened  wife. 


104  HESTEB    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Perhaps  I  will,  when  I  sell  out  what  I  have  on  hand. 
I  must  go  now ;  you  are  making  too  serious  a  matter  of 
this." 

And  the  unhappy  wife  was  left  alone  with  her  sad  re- 
flections. Clara  was  out  spending  the  afternoon.  John 
was  —  she  knew  not  where.  She  had  little  expectation 
that  her  husband  would  ever  think  as  she  did.  And  0, 
she  trembled,  as  she  thought  how  often  she  had  detected 
the  fatal  smell  in  his  breath  recently,  and  an  unnatural 
hilarity  in  his  manner.  She  wept  and  sighed  in  turn, 
until  John,  a  boy  of  sixteen,  entered  the  room  noisily, 
saying,  — 

"  Come,  old  woman,  hand  over  some  money.  The  old 
man  is  mighty  crusty  to-night ;  can't  get  a  cent  from 
him.  I  tell  you,  fork  over.  Jim  Steele  and  I  are  going 
over  to  North  End,  to  a  ringtum  with  two  of  the  hand- 
somest girls  out." 

Mrs.  Stillmau  was  exceedingly  shocked.  She  saw  that 
her  son  was  in  the  first  stage  of  drunkenness,  and  perfectly 
reckless. 

"  I  have  no  money,  Johnnie  ;  come,  stay  at  home  with 
me  this  eveming  ;  I  am  lonesome,"  she  said,  in  as  quiet 
a  voice  as  she  could  command. 

"  Well,  I  guess  so  ;  pretty  likely  I  shall  —  isn't  it  ? 
when  Jim  and  the  girls  are  waiting  down  by  the  corner. 
Come,  trump  up  something;  your  watch'll  do." 

He  seized  it,  held  it  up  for  a  moment  defiantly,  and 
rushed  from  the  room,  saying,  — 

"  Tell  the  old  man  to  hand  over  the  real  shin-plasters 
next  time." 

Mrs.  Stillman  hurried  to  the  store  as  fast  as  her  trem- 
bling limbs  could  carry  her,  arid  entered  it  just  in  time 
to  hear  Mr.  Crafty  say,  in  a  sarcastic  tone,  — 


A    DOMESTIC    SCENE.  105 

"  I  thought  you  were  Diore  of  a  man,  Mr.  Stillman,  than 
to  be  nosed  round  by  a  woman.  Now,  I  tell  my  wife 
that  it  is  nothing  to  her  how  I  make  my  money,  or  spend 
it  either,  so  long  as  she  is  well  supplied." 

"What  is  it?"  said  Mr.  Stillman,  alarmed  by  the 
appearance  of  his  wife.  She  told  him  in  as  few  words 
as  possible,  and  disappeared. 

Mr.  Stillman  spoke  hurriedly  to  his  clerk,  and  excused 
himself  to  the  company  by  saying,  — 

"  I  have  an  engagement  down  at  the  corner,  and 
ought  to  have  been  there  before/7  and  went  in  pursuit 
of  his  son,  —  so  young  in  years,  so  old  in  vice.  Of 
course  the  counsels  of  Mr.  Crafty  and  his  compeers, 
backed  up  by  love  of  gain,  and  the  cravings  of  a  young 
and  growing  appetite,  prevailed ;  and  the  casks  were 
emptied  and  filled,  emptied  and  filled.  Mrs.  Stillman 
became  very  reserved  ;  but  people  called  her  haughty, 
and  wondered  what  she  had  to  be  proud  of.  She  ceased 
to  dress  as  much  as  formerly  ;  they  supposed  it  was  be- 
cause Jack  cost  them  so  much  in  drunken  riots.  They 
didn't  pity  her  ;  didn't  she  know  it  was  no  worse  for 
her  husband  and  son  to  drink  than  for  other  people's 
husbands  and  sons  ? 


106  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

CHRISTMAS  MORNING.  —  REMINISCENCES  OF  THE  EAST. 

"  IT  has  happened  just  right  —  hasn't  it,  aunt  Hester? 
Now  I  am  glad  it  snowed  so  fast,  if  I  couldn't  go  skating. 
Uncle  Frank  will  come  in  his  big  sleigh.  0,  won't  it  be 
fun  to  see  the  horse  go  and  make  the  bells  jingle!"  said 
Wallace,  on  Christmas  morning. 

"0,  funny,  funny!"  shouted  little  Elida. 

"  It  will  be  nice,"  said  Winnie,  "  if  we  don't  tip  over 
in  the  big  piles  of  snow." 

"  We  shan't  tip  over,"  said  Hester,  tossing  the  baby. 
"  Uncle  Frank  is  used  to  snow,  and  old  Charlie  is  kind 
and  careful." 

"  Isn't  she  pretty,  with  her  new  frock  ?  How  nice 
Mrs.  Trueman  has  fixed  it,  with  the  blue  ribbon  and  edg- 
ing," said  Winnie,  as  Hester  held  little  Fostina  up  to  the 
admiring  gaze  of  the  children,  and  turned  her  round  and 
round,  so  that  they  could  have  a  full  view  of  the  bow  on 
the  back,  and  see  how  cunning  she  was  all  over. 

"Pretty!"  said  Hester;  "yes,  indeed,  and  as  sweet  as 
a  pink.  She  is  a  darling,  every  bit  of  her,  and  just  as 
good  as  can  be." 

"  Don't  you  wish  father  could  see  her  ?  "  said  Winnie, 
sadly. 

"  Yes,  and  grandma  Lentell,  too,"  said  Wallace,  tri- 
umphantly. "  Poh !  a  monkey!  I  should  think  she 


CHRISTMAS    MORNING.  10  T 

looked  more  like  a  little  beauty  —  shouldn't  you,  auntie  ? 
I  don't  love  grandma  much  ;  she  says  '  Hum  !  '  all  the 
time.  She's  real  homely,  and  I  think  she  looks  like  a  —  " 

"  Your  grandmother  is  not  as  good  and  lovely  as  I 
wish  she  was,  but  you  had  better  not  speak  disrespect- 
fully of  her.  It  will  do  no  good,  and  will  be  sure  to 
injure  you,"  said  Hester,  quietly. 

"  How  will  it,  auntie  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  can  make  you  understand 
what  I  mean ;  but  here  is  a  pail  of  nice,  clean,  fresh 
water.  Now,  if  I  were  to  pour  in  a  few  drops  of  vinegar 
every  now  and  then,  it  would  soon  grow  sour ;  or  a  little 
wormwood,  it  would  be  bitter  —  would  it  not  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  it  would/7  said  Wallace. 

"But  suppose  I  should  drop  in  a  lump  of  sugar  now 
and  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  would  be  sweetened 'water  then,"  said  the 
children,  in  concert. 

"  It  would  be  dood,"  said  Elida.  "  We'd  drink  it  all 
tip,  and  gis  you  and  totty  sister  some." 

"  Well,"  said  Hester,  smiling,  "  when  God  makes  us 
little  innocent  babies,  at  first  we  are  good,  and  fresh,  and 
pure,  and  sweet,  like  little  birdie,  here ;  and  when  we  are 
old  enough  to  think,  and  talk,  and  act,  if  we  are  careful 
to  think  good,  and  pure,  and  loving  thoughts,  we  shall 
remain  more  pure  and  lovely  than  we  shall  if  we  indulge 
in  bitter,  unkind,  envious  feelings.  Or,  in  other  words, 
kind,  loving,  tender  thoughts,  words,  and  deeds  make  us 
better,  and  those  around  us  ;  but  cross,  unkind,  selfish 
thoughts;  words,  and  deeds  injure  us,  and  those  with 
whom  we  associate.  Do  you  understand  me,  children  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  mean,  if  I  tell  about  grandma's  badness, 


108  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

and  say  she  looks  like  a  monkey,"  said  Wallace,  rapidly, 
"  it  will  make  me,  and  us,  bitter,  or  sour,  or  bad.  And 
if  I  talk  about  somebody's  goodness,  it  will  make  me,  and 
us,  better." 

"  That  is  it,"  said  Hester,  encouragingly.  "  But  we 
must  hang  up  our  stockings.  Uncle  Frank  will  be  here 
soon.  There  he  comes,  now." 

"  0,  dear  !  "  said  Martha  Manlie,  to  her  parents  ;  "I 
should  think  Hester  would  be  distracted,  with  all  those 
children  to  fix  off.  I  declare  I  thought  I  should  be 
crazy  the  little  time  I  staid  there  ;  but  Hester  seemed  to 
enjoy  it.  They  are  as  good  as  kittens,  all  of  them  ;  but 
there  would  be  too  many  for  me,  and  Hester  "is  ten  years 
older." 

"  La,  sakes,  child,"  said  grandma,  "you  ain't  used  to 
children,  and  Hester  is.  You'd  get  used  to  it  after  a 
while.  I  never  enjoyed  myself  better  in  my  life  than  I 
did  when  I  had  my  seven  around  me  ;  and  my  mother 
used  to  say  the  same  of  her  ten.  There  they  go.  Hester 
is  a  dear  good  girl.  She  seems  as  young  as  ever  she  did. 
God  bless  'em." 

"  I  wish  'em  all  a  merry  Christmas,  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart,"  said  grandpa,  looking  up  from  his  paper. 
"  God  bless  'em." 

"  Wallace  looks  like  your  brother  Horace,  child — don't 
you  think  so  ?  "  said  grandma. 

"  Yes,  mother,  and  Winnie  like  our  Mary,  only  not  as 
cheerful.  She  is  rightly  named  Winnie.  I  wish  she 
was  going  to  stay  here,  instead  of  Elida  ;  her  quiet, 
thoughtful  ways  suit  me  exactly.  Elida  is  a  dear  little 
thing  too,  and  baby  is  a  remarkable  child.  I  don't  know 
what  to  think  of  her.  She  is  the  wisest  little  thing  I 


REMINISCENCES    OF    THE    PAST.  109 

ever  saw.  She  is  getting  acquainted  with  me,  and  I  am 
glad.  I  mean  to  tend  her  half  a  day  Sunday,  and  let 
Hester  go  to  church,  she  enjoys  it  so  much." 

"  That  is  right,  Martha  ;  your  poor  brother  set  his  life 
by  Hester ;  and  wasn't  she  worthy  of  it  too  ?  0,  how 
that  wicked  Mehitable  Sharp  made  them  suffer  !  I  can't 
bear  to  think  of  it.  I  always  blamed  Horace,  though, 
for  going  off  without  knowing  the  truth  of  the  matter. 
But  la,  it  is  all  over ;  I  didn't  never  mean  to  think  of  it 
again.  But  I  am  glad  them  children  didn't  take  after  her. 
I  couldn't  love  them  if  they  did.  Their  grandpa  Lentell 
was  as  nice  a  man  as  ever  lived.  He  waited  upon  me  to 
a  horseback  ride  once.  He  was  a  handsome  fellow :  folks 
teased  me  about  him  considerable.  But  I  liked  your 
father  the  best,"  looking  over  to  the  corner  where  he  sat, 
fondly.  "  I  was  fortunate,  Martha.  I  hope  you  will  do 
as  well  some  day." 

Martha  smiled  as  she  said,  "  Why,  mother,  don't  you 
see  I  am  away  beyond  the  matrimonial  corner  ?  " 

"  You  ain't,  child ;  you  are  young  enough,  and  good 
enough,  to  be  married  any  day,  and  might  have  been 
long  ago,  if  your  father  and  I  could  have  spared  you.'7 

"  God  will  bless  you,  Martha,"  said  grandpa,  smiling. 

0,  how  those  few  childish  words  of  the  mother  wakened 
thoughts  in  the  heart  of  the  devoted  daughter,  of  the  long- 
ago  love,  which  burned  brightly  on  the  heart's  altar  for  a 
few  brief  months,  making  the  bright  and  beautiful  things 
of  earth  more  bright  and  beautiful,  causing  all  nature  to 
smile  with  gladness,  and  life  seem  like  a  pure,  sweet 
reality,  which  it  would  be  blessed  to  live. 

Yrs,  she  thought  of  that  time  for  a  moment,  and 
smiled  —  a  little  patient  smile.  And  then  came  thoughts 


110  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

of  another  time,  so  full  of  blighted  hopes  and  withered 
expectations,  so  full  of  chilly  dreariness  and  desolation, 
that  she  instinctively  bowed  her  head  over  the  Blessed 
Book,  which  lay  on  her  knee,  and  pressed  her  hand  to 
her  throbbing  temples,  as  if  she  could  thus  stop  the  tide 
of  mournful  memories,  and  drink  in  peace  from  the  sacred 
pages  before  her. 

But  her  soul's  eyes  were  fast  riveted  on  memory's 
blotted  page.  Thus  she  sat,  while  before  her  passed, 
in  panoramic  view,  the  manly  form  of  her  affianced 
husband. 

Now  he  was  sitting  by  her  side,  holding  her  hand, 
telling  her  honestly,  frankly,  tenderly,  all  his  love.  How 
pure  it  seemed  !  How  she  loved  him  in  return  !  She  felt 
ennobled  and  elevated  by  his  love,  by  her  love.  It  was  a 
blessed  moment,  but  it  passed.  Another  scene.  How 
could  she  look  at  it  ?  She  shrank  nearer  to  the  Holy  Word 
of  promise,  the  hands  clasped  painfully  over  the  throbbing 
temples,  the  head  bowed  lower  and  lower,  as  if  to  let  the 
dreadful  wave  pass  over. 

O,  it  came,  it  came,  and  was  past.  She  was  well  nigh 
stunned  by  the  mighty  shock.  The  beautiful  things  of 
life  were  veiled  in  sadness,  earth  draped  in  mourning, 
and  the  light  of  heaven  very  dim,  in  the  presence  of  this 
sudden  darkness,  which  extinguished  forever  a  pure, 
true,  and  beautiful  love. 

No,  not  forever  !  It  will  live  and  burn  on,  brighter, 
purer,  and  holier,  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

"  Martha,"  said  the  aged  mother,  "  why  don't  you 
read,  child  ?  I  knit  into  the  middle  of  my  needle  long 
ago,  and  have  been  wattin'.  Head  'The  Lord  is  iny 
Shepherd  ;  I  shall  not  want.'  ' 


REMINISCENCES    OF    THE    PAST.  Ill 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  will  read  in  a  -moment.     I  want  to 
run  up  stairs  first." 

•  came  back,  and  read  calmly,  very  calmly,  page 
after  page  of  the  Holy  Word,  to  the  aged  listeners,  and 
her  soul  grew  strong.  She  took  up  again,  hopefully, 
the  broken  threads  of  life,  and  went  on  her  way  cheer- 
fully. 


112  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE  CHRISTMAS  PARTY.  —  Miss  PATTY  STEAENS. 

"  0,  HERE  you  arc,"  said  Emma  Levering.  "  Why 
aunt  Hester,  you.  look  as  motherly !  Give  me  baby, 
while  you  take  off  your  things." 

"  She  is  asleep,  the  darling,"  said  Hester.  "  Let  me 
lay  her  away  in  a  quiet  place,  and  she  won't  wake  till 
dinner  time." 

"  Why,  how  good  she  is  !  Weren't  you  cold  ?  How 
did  you  like  your  ride,  children  ?  "  said  aunt  Emma. 

"  It  was  nice,"  said  Elida. 

"  Splendid,"  said  the  others. 

"  We's  didn't  be  spilled  a  mite  in  the  snow,"  said 
Sunshine,  smiling  all  over  her  face. 

"  Has  you  got  a  puddin'  wis  plums  in  it,  auntie  ?  " 

"Yes,  pinky,  I  have;  and  mince  pies  too,  and  little 
cakes  for  boys  and  girls  that  are  good,  and  lots  of  sweet 
things." 

"  I's  dood,  auntie,  and  I  likes  them  tilings  :  may  I  has 
some  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so,"  lifting  her  up  and  kissing  the  dim- 
pled cheek.  "  Now  I  want  you  to  have  a  good  time, 
and  be  very  happy.  Georgy  and  Fanny  have  been  talk- 
ing of  this  visit  for  a  month  or  more.  Now  let  us  see 
which  of  all  the  children  will  behave  best.  Let  us  try 
to  please  each  other." 


THE    CHEISTMAS    PARTY.  113 

Hester  took  the  children  into  the  large,  old-fashioned 
parlor,  where  the  great  logs  crackled  and  sparkled,  and 
sent  out  a  perfect  flood  of  warmth  and  comfort  to  the 
chilly  ones  around. 

Grandpa  Lovering  was  there,  trying  to  look  cheerful ; 
but  thinking,  thinking  all  the  time  of  Mary,  the  love  of 
his  youth,  the  light  of  his  home,  the  mother  of  his  chil- 
dren, the  companion  and  friend  he  had  lost. 

"  I  will  not  sadden  them  still  more  by  my  sadness," 
he  thought. 

The  brothers  and  sisters  were  struggling  bravely  to 
bear  their  own  burdens,  and  help  the  others  in  their  pain- 
ful task.  The  last  time  they  had  met  was  at  mother's 
funeral ;  and  Harmony,  their  gentle  sister,  too,  had  gone  ; 
her  place  was  vacant.  They  missed  them  so  !  0,  they 
felt  more  lonely  than  ever,  now  that  they  were  all  together. 

They  saw  the  pain  in  each  other's  faces,  they  heard  it 
in  each  other's  voices,  and  felt  it  in  the  earnest,  silent 
clasping  of  the  hands.  After  the  first  greetings  were 
over,  the  children  took  possessioii  of  the  porch,  which 
had  been  made  warm,  and  trimmed  with  evergreens  for 
the  occasion. 

"  There  was  a  baker's  dozen,"  uncle  Frank  said. 

But  things  moved  slowly  a*  first,  for  the  children,  some 
of  them,  had  been  deeply  wounded  by  the  two  deaths  in 
the  family  circle.  All  felt  the  influence  of  the  sad  hearts 
around  them,  until  uncle  Frank  led  aunt  Hester  among 
them,  blindfolded.  First  came  a  smile,  then  a  shout. 

"  Now,  children,"  said  Hester,  as  she  went  cautiously 

along,  reaching  out  her  arms,  "I'll  catch  you,  if  you'll 

lot  me.     But  mind  now,  we  must  be  —  0,  who  is  this  ?  " 

.-•  all  over  llir  head.  ruMn'ng  the  cars  and  pinching 

8 


114  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

them,  but  no  Bound.     "  Well,  I  guess  it  is  Master  George 
Lovcring."     (A  great  laugh.)     "  Am  I  right?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  'tis  he,"  shouted  the  children. 

"  And  here  is  my  Sunshine,"  said  Hester,  catching 
Elida,  who  had  been  saying,  — 

"  Here  I  be,  here  I  be,  auntie." 

"  Well,"  said  Hester,  taking  off  the  bandage  and  tying 
it  over  Gcorgy's  eyes,  "  I  was  going  to  say  you  must  try 
to  play  as  quietly  as  you  can,  for  baby  is  asleep,  and, 
grandma  Stearns  isn't  far  off." 

"  I  wish  she  was  farther  off,  though,"  said  George ; 
"  she'll  think  we  ought  to  be  set  down  in  a  row,  learning 
the  Catechism."  And  several  others  said, — 

"So  do  I,  so  do  I.  She  isn't  a  bit  like  you,  auntie 
Hester.  0,  won't  you  stay  and  play  with  us  ?  " 

7' Do,"  echoed  from  all  parts  of  the  room. 

"  No,  dears,  I  can't ;  I  want  to  see  grandpa.  He  is 
lonely.  See  how  good  you  can  be,  and  take  care  of  the 
little  ones,"  she  said,  disappearing. 

"  Why,  I  would  give  more  for  one  of  our  aunt  Hester's 
little  fingers  than  I  would  for  Patty  Stearns,  and  all  the 
money  and  things  the  cross  old  thing  has  got  in  tho 
world,"  said  Fanny. 

"  If  I  hear  her  old  crutches  a  coming,  I'll  hold  the 
door.  She  thinks  it  is  wicked  to  laugh,"  said  George, 
as  he  began  to  dive  this  way,  duck  that  way,  stoop  over, 
and  walk  with  his  arms  stretched  out  this  way  and  that. 
Such  a  diving,  ducking,  dodging,  scampering  time  as 
there  was  for  a  few  moments  !  the  little  ones  pleading  to 
be  caught. 

"  There,  now,"  said  George,  with  a  flourish,  "  I've  got 
somebody.  'Ti.s  Fanny,  I  know  by  her  wig."  And  so 


MISS    PATTY    STEARNS.  115 

it  wont  on,  game  after  game,  until  joy  sparkled  in  every 
eye,  when  suddenly  the  door  flew  open,  and  there  stood 
Miss  Stearns,  leaning  on  her  crutches,  and  looking  mourn- 
fully, ay,  sternly,  over  her  brass-bowed  specs. 

"  I  shouldn't  thought  you'd  felt  like  making  all  this 
noise,"  she  said,  dolefully,  "  when  your  poor  grandmother 
and  aunt  Harmony  are  both  dead.  Death  is  a  solemn 
thing,  and  you've  got  to  die,  all  of  you,  some  time. 
You'd  better  be  larnin'  the  Catechism,  or  some  of  Watts' 
hymns." 

The  children  were  as  silent  as  if  death  in  all  its  grim- 
ness  stood  before  them,  all  but  Fanny,  the  eldest. 

"  Why  ?  "  said  she  ;  "  have  we  waked  the  baby  ?  Aunt 
Hester  told  us  to  play  ;  she  played  with  us  at  first." 

"  Mercy,  mercy  !  Did  I  iver  hear  the  like  of  that  ? 
Well,  go  on  ;  destruction's  before  you." 

"Didn't  you  love  to  play  when  you  were  young?" 
inquired  Fanny. 

"Not  after  rny  grandmother  and  aunt  died  —  not  I," 
was  the  slow,  solemn  reply,  with  a  mournful  shake  of 
the  head. 

"  How  old  were  you  then  ?  "  persisted  Fanny. 

"  Well,  it's  no  matter  now  ;  I  was  thirty  or  up'ards. 
I've  seen  the  emptiness  of  earthly  things,  and  I  hope 
you  will  before  long."  She  turned  slowly  away,  with 
a  sigh,  saying,  "  Mercy,  mercy !  how  depraved  human 
natur'  is !  "  The  door  was  closed  as  soon  as  it  was 
safe. 

"  There,  now,"  said  George,  sticking  his  jackknife  over 
the  latch,  "  I  hope  somebody  else  will  die  soon." 

"0,  I  wouldn't,"  said  Winnie,  fearfully. 

"  Yes,  you  would,"  said  George,  "  if  you  were  n*  *:    -d 


116  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

of  her  droning,  croaking-  voice  as  we  are.  Why,  Sis  and 
Bub  get  just  as  far  from  her  as  they  can." 

"Yes,"  said  Fanny,  "she  thinks  it  is  foolish  and 
wicked  for  mother,  or  any  of  us,  to  say  '  darling/  or 
'  birdie,'  or  '  Lizzie/  or  '  Willie/  She  always  says  '  Wil- 
liam/ and  'Elizabeth/  to  those  little  things." 

Fanny's  perfect  imitation  of  Miss  Stearns'  voice  and 
manner  caused  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  "  said  several  voices  ;  "  she  will  come 
again." 

"  No  she  won't,"  said  Fanny  ;   "  the  door  is  fast." 

"  What  makes  your  folks  keep  her  ?  "  inquired  several 
of  the  cousins. 

"  Because  she  can't  stay  anywhere  else,  I  suppose," 
was  the  reply.  "  Mother  pities  her.  Why,  we  can't 
have  company,  young  or  old,  without  her  hobbling  h- 
with  her  crutches,  looking  like  a  fright ;  and  she  has  real 
nice  clothes  laid  away.  And  then,  nobody  must  speak, 
unless  spoken  to  by  herself,  because  she  happens  to  be 
eighty.  This  is  the  way  she  begins,"  said  Fanny,  settling 
her  face,  and  changing  her  tone  :  — 

"  '  George,  bring  the  cricket.  My  limb  it  pains  me 
desput.  It's  thirteen  years  and  up'ards  since  I  fell  and 
broke  it.  Fanny,  it  'pears  to  me  there's  a  stitch  down. 
I  ain't  a  bit  well/  addressing  the  company.  '  My  eyes 
pain  me,  and  I  rested  poorly  last  night,  too.  The  doctor 
left  me  some  trade  for  urn,  but  they  ain't  a  mite  better/ 
A  little  pause.  '  I  was  sayin'  it's  up'ards  of  thirteen 
years  since  I  fell  and  broke  my  limb,  and  I  hain't  stepped 
a  step  since/ 

"  By  and  by  the  company  gets  to  talking,  and  grows 
lively.  She  frowns,  moves  her  crutches,  and  plunges 


MISS    PATTY    STEARXS.  117 

into  us  again.  '  Let's  see/  very  dolefully  addressing 
some  one  who  has  buried  a  friend  some  time,  ;  '  I  believe 
it's  ten  years  the  10th  day  of  March  since  your  sister 
died.  I  remember  it  as  plain  as  day/  shaking  her  head 
mournfully." 

"  That  is  a  way  she  has  of  extinguishing  mirthfulness, 
father  says,"  said  George.  "  He  says  she  can  tell  the 
year,  the  month,  the  day,  and  the  hour  of  every  death  in 
town  for  the  last  forty  years." 

"  She  likes  funerals,"  said  Fanny,  "  and  it's  the  only 
thing  she  does  like,  except  good  living.  Last  Thanks- 
giving morning  she  complained  of  being  sick,  and  mother 
made  her  a  quart  of  milk  porridge.  She  crumbed  it  full 
of  bread,  and  then,  when  dinner  was  ready,  she  wanted 
a  lot  of  turkey,  saying,  '  I  niver  tasted  a  mouthful 
of  breakfast.'  '  Didn't  you  eat  a  bowlful  of  bread  and 
porridge  ? '  said  mother.  She  looked  up  with  an  in- 
jured, indignant  look,  and  said,  '  I  niver  heard  porridge 
called  victuals  —  niver.'  I  can  tell  you,  the  turkey  and 
fixins,  pudding  and  pies,  melte'd  away  like  snow  forts 
before  the  sun,  if  her  appetite  was  poor." 

"  She  isn't  willing  we  should  laugh  or  play,"  said 
Fanny,  "  or  read  anything  but  the  Bible,  Pilgrim's 
Progress,  Watts'  Hymns,  or  the  Catechism." 

"  You  have  forgotten  the  '  ivery-day  book '  and  the 
letters  she  makes  everybody  read,"  said  George.  "  She 
looks  indignant  enough  if  we  read  a  word  to  ourselves." 

"  We  shall  turn  sour,  or  bitter,  or  bad,"  said  Wallace, 
uneasily,  "if  we  keep  on.  Hasn't  somebody  got  some 
sugar  to  put  in  ?  " 

The  children  laughed,  looked  at  each  other,  and  in- 
quired, — 


118  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
.   Winnie  told  aunt  Hester's  morning  illustration. 

"  There  isn't  much  danger  of  our  being  sweetened  — 
is  there,  Fan,"  said  George,  "  while  that  vinegar  jug  is 
round  ?  She  ought  to  have  been  a  frog,  she  loves  croak- 
ing so  well." 

"Come,  come,"  said  Fanny,  "let's  play  'puss,  puss 
in  the  corner,'  or  '  forfeits.'  Aunt  Hester  is  right.  The 
more  I  talk  about  her,  the  worse  I  hate  her ;  so  I  shall 
stop." 

After  the  children  left  the  parlor,  grandpa  said,  mak- 
ing a  great  effort  to  speak  cheerfully,  — 

"  We  miss  them  —  don't  we,  children  ?  we  miss  them. 
But  we  shouldn't  be  willing  to  call  them  back  —  should 
we?" 

A  long  pause.  Elevia  arose,  sat  down  on  a  cricket  at 
her  father's  feet,  and  laid  her  head  wearily  on  his  knee. 
Silently  he  placed  his  arm  over  her  neck  for  a  moment, 
drew  his  hand  over  the  bowed  head,  caressingly,  and 
said,  "  My  child,  would  you  call  them  back  ?  " 

"No,  father,"  was  the  earnest  reply.  "I  would 
rather  go  to  them." 

Hester,  as  usual,  came  to  the  rescue.  She  talked  of 
the  absent  ones  so  hopefully  that  the  mourners  could 
almost  rejoice  that  they  were  not  here,  bearing  the  bur- 
dens and  sorrows  of  life. 

"  God  help  us  to  be  ready  when  we  are  called  to  go," 
she  said. 

Here  Miss  Stearns  entered. 

Every  one  knew  what  to  expect.  It  was  the  old 
story.  Self  was  the  beginning,  the  middle,  and  the  end ; 
so  the  company  resigned  themselves  to  the  infliction  as 
best  they  could. 


MISS    PATTY    STEARNS.  119 

"  Miss  Strong,"  she  began,  "  I  shouldn't  thought 
you'd  felt  like  playing  with  um.  I'm  astonished  that 
you  sanction  the  follies  of  youth  so.  I'm  surprised  and 
shocked,  I  say,  to  find  them  children  a-playing  so  soon  ; 
and  you  begun  it.  Christ's  kingdom  niver  will  be  estab- 
lished while  his  professed  followers  are  —  " 

"  Cross  and  ugly/'  said  uncle  Frank,  laughing. 

"  Mercy,  mercy  !  You  are  too  light,"  —  with  a  sigh. 
"  He  was  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief. 
We  ought  to  follow  his  example  in  those  things." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  reverently,  "  we  ought  to  follow 
his  example  in  all  things.  He  was  kind,  and  tender,  and 
loving.  He  was  meek  and  lowly,  full  of  pity,  gentle  and 
forgiving.  He  was  perfect  in  holiness.  0,  we  ought  to 
imitate  him  in  all  things,  especially  in  his  self-denying 
love  ;  for  love  is  the  bond  of  perfection." 

"  It  was  in  July,  I  believe,  Mr.  Lovering,  that  your 
daughter  died ;  the  28th  day  of  the  month ;  and  your 
wife,  November  7.  Well,  there  is  enough  to  keep  us 
from  frivolity.  I've  seen  the  emptiness  of  earthly 
things." 

Here  dinner  was  announced.  After  some  waiting,  the 
crutches  were  adjusted  on  a  chair  brought  for  that  pur- 
pose. Grace  was  said,  and  the  business  of  the  hour 
went  on  as  briskly  and  quietly  as  could  be  expected,  con- 
sidering that  twenty-eight  hungry  people  were  seated 
around  the  table.  The  children  were  radiant  with  delight 
and  expectation. 

"  I  likes  puddin'  wis  plums  in  it,"  said  little  Elida. 

The  company  smiled,  all  but  Miss  Stearns ;  she  was 
shocked. 

"  Children  should  be  seen,  and  not  heard,  was  the  rule 


120  HESTEK    STKOKG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

in  my  day,"  she  sighed  ;  "  but  now  they  are  heard  first. 
That  child  needs  a  mother,"  —  looking  at  Hoster. 

"  0,  come',  Miss  Stearns,"  said  uncle  Frank  ;  "this  is 
a  Christmas  dinner,  or  supper,  whichever  you  please) 
and  not  a  funeral,  nor  a  lecture.  Let  us  be  thankful  for 
our  blessings,  and  show  it  by  being  cheerful.  There  is 
a  time  for  everything,  you  know.  Let  me  give  you  a 
generous  piece  of  turkey,  or  chicken,  or  whatever  you 
like." 

"  I  likes  baked  roosters,  I  does,"  said  little  Willie, 
with  a  flourish. 

"  Wis  a  wis  bone  on  it  ?  "  said  Elida. 

"  Yes,"  said  Willie,  "  and  some  'tato  and  graby  on  it." 

All  smiled  but  the  chagrined  and  solemn  Miss  Stearns. 
It  was  funny  to  see  the  little  piles  of  plums  on  the  chil- 
dren's plates  —  pleasant  to  see  them  count  their  treas- 
ures, and  divide,  so  as  to  share  equally. 

"  Well,  we've  had  a  nice  time  —  haven't  we  ?"  said 
Fanny.  "  I  was  afraid  Miss  Stearns  would  spoil  all  ; 
but  she  hasn't." 

All  expressed  satisfaction,  and  the  company  dispersed. 

"  I  think  you  do  wrong  to  keep  Patty  Stearns  here," 
said  Hester,  aside.  "  It  will  have  a  bad  influence  on 
the  children  ;  prejudice  their  minds  against  religion,  &c." 

"  I  fear  it  will,"  said  Emma.  "  Frank  threatens  to 
send  her  off.  She  is  terribly  stingy,  too,  and  frets  about 
the  price  of  board.  Why,  she  wouldn't  eat  a  meal  away 
on  any  account.  If  invited,  she  declines,  saying,  '  I  pay 
my  board  at  Mr.  Lovering's.'  Yet  she  will  invite  com- 
pany to  eat  here.  Did  you  see  that  bag  on  her  arm  ? 
She  always  brings  it  to  the  table,  and  if  there  is  cake,  or 
anything  better  than  common,  she  drops  some  in  slyly. 


MISS    PATTY    STEAENS.  121 

Queer  —  isn't  it  ?  And  the  other  day  her  brother,  an  old 
man,  came  to  see  her.  She  wanted  to  comb  his  hair, 
and  actually  came  to  me  for  a  comb.  '  Why/  said  I, 
'  where  is  yours  ? '  'I  don't  want  to  use  mine,'  was  her 
reply.  '  Well,  I  don't  want  you  to  use  mine,  neither,' 
said  I.  She  seemed  quite  offended.  I  think  we  shall 
have  to  let  her  go ;  but  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  where 
she  will  find  a  place.  Nobody  wants  her." 

When  Hester  went  to  Miss  Stearns'  room  to  say  good 
night,  she  could  scarcely  help  smiling  at  the  sight  that 
met  her.  She  found  her  sitting  in  one  corner,  a  comical- 
looking  hood  on,  her  head  bowed  so  that  the  bow  on  the 
pointed  top  stood  erect,  "  meditatin',"  as  she  called  it, 
and  saying  over  her  Catechism,  hymns,  &c.,  out  aloud. 

Hester  heard 

"  Hark !  from  the  tombs  a  doleful  sound," 

and  closed  the  door  sadly,  saying  to  herself,  "  There  are 
other  doleful  things  besides  tombs.  I  wish  she  could 
learn  to  praise,  as  well  as  mourn.  She  has  more  cause 
for  gratitude  than  many  others  I  know  of." 


122  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

WHAT  SANTA  GLAUS  LEFT.  —  JUDITH  LOVERING'S  ADVICE. 

MARTHA  MAXLIE  had  kindled  a  good  warm  fire,  and  was 
waiting  to  help  Hester  unpack  her  precious  freight. 

"  This  is  thoughtful  in  you,"  said  Hester  ;  "  I  meant  to 
have  asked  you  to  do  just  this  thing.  You  take  Sun- 
shine. Wallace  and  Winnie  can  scrabble  out  themselves. 
Pet  is  fast  asleep.  She  is  a  darling,  auntie  Martha. 
There,  it  is  nice  to  have  this  warm  room  to  come  into. 
The  folks  all  sent  love  to  you  and  the  dear  old  folks. 
How  have  you  enjoyed  the  day  ?  " 

"  0,  very  well.  I  have  thought  of  you  a  good  deal. 
I  expected  you  and  the  little  ones  would  come  home  tired 
out.  Aren't  you  half  crazy  with  the  confusion  ? "  said 
Martha,  as  she  went  on  quietly  unwrapping  the  children, 
who  were  trying  to  wait  patiently  for  an  opportunity  to 
explore  the  stockings. 

"  I's  had  the  bestesl  time,"  said  Sunshine.  "  0,  I's 
never  seen  such  nice  plums  on  a  puddin'  in  all  your  life, 
aunt  Martha.  I  brought  one  to  you,  and  my  grandpa, 
and  his  mother.  Be  she  waked  up  ?  " 

"  May  we  look  and  sec  if  he  has  been  here  ?  "  asked 
Winnie  and  Wallace,  in  a  breath. 

"  0,  yes,"  said  Hester,  "  I  forgot  you  were  expecting 
the  old  man  witli  the  bag.  Have  you  seen  him,  Martha  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  has  called,"  said  Martha,  opening 


SANTA  CLAUS  LEFT.  123 


the  bed-room  door,  and  exposing  five  stockings  pinned  to 
the  bed-quilt. 

"  Mercy  sakes  !  "  said  Winnie  ;  "  why,  they  are  all  full, 
and  running  over.  I'm  afraid  he  won't  have  enough  to 
go  round." 

"  Yes,  he  will,"  said  Wallace  ;  "  he  makes  such  things, 
and  has  a  store  full  of  um." 

"0,  good,  good  I  Here  is  a  sled  for  me;  and  here  is  a 
little  pony  ;  that  is  for  me  ;  and  here  —  " 

"  You  mustn't  claim  everything,"  said  Hester.  "We 
will  see  whom  the  things  are  for  soon.  We  shall  find 
the  names  attached  to  them.  Let's  see  :  the  sled  is  for 
Wallace,  the  book  for  Winnie,  the  pony  for  Elida.  And 
now  you  may  see  what  the  stockings  contain." 

The  merry  voices  were  hushed  for  a  moment,  while 
childish  hands  pulled  out  one  thing  after  another,  until 
the  last  was  extracted,  and  then,  — 

"  See  !  see  !  "  shouted  the  children. 

"  I've  got  a  jackknife,  and  lots  of  peppermints,"  said 
Wallace.  "  Hurrah  !  I'll  cut  up  your  kindlings  now, 
auntie." 

"  Mine  is  a  baby,  a  mite  of  a  dolly,  that  he  brought 
me,"  said  Sunshine,  "  and  some  sugar  things.  I'll  gis 
you  some,  aunties." 

"  That  is  a  darling,"  said  the  two  aunties.  "  But  what 
has  Winnie  got  ?  Isn't  she  pleased  with  the  old  gentle- 
man's gifts  ?  " 

"  0,  yes,  indeed  ;  but  I  am  confounded,  auntie.  I 
didn't  expect  half  so  much.  Here  is  a  beauty  thimble 
and  scissors,  and  comb,  and  such  a  lot  of  candy,  besides 
the  darling  book.  0,  I  didn't  expect  so  much."  And 
little  sensitive  Winnie  fairly  cried  with  the  surprise  and  joy. 


124  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  You  will  have  one  of  those  books  every  month, 
darling,"  said  Hester. 

"  Who  do  you  suppose  it  is  ?  "  said  Martha,  stroking 
the  child's  head. 

"  Why,  it  is  God,  I  think.  He  told  somebody  to  do 
it,  because  we  are  orphans.  Aunt  Judith  told  me  I  was 
worse  than  an  orphan.  Are  orphans  bad,  auntie  ? " 
sobbed  the  child. 

"  Bad?  No,"  said  Hester,  cheerfully.  "They  are  the 
sweetest,  darlingest  little  things  in  the  world.  I  think 
they  are  nearer  and  dearer  to  the  dear  God  Father  than 
children  who  have  earthly  parents.  Don't  you,  Martha?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Martha ;  "  and  all  God's  people 
love  little  motherless  children  better  than  any  others,  if 
they  are  good." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  God  thought  anything  about 
telling  him  to  give  us  these  ?  "  asked  Wallace,  thought- 
fully. "  Why,  he  is  away  up  in  heaven." 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Hester.  "  God  reigneth  in  heaven 
and  on  earth,  too.  He  is  everywhere,  beholding  the  evil 
and  the  good.  He  will  punish  our  evil,  wicked  deeds, 
and  reward  the  good.  I  want  you  to  remember  the 
verse,  'Thou,  God,  seest  me,'  for  he  is  always  looking 
on.  When  you  desire  to  do  wrong,  think  of  God,  and  be 
afraid  to  sin ;  when  you  desire  to  do  right,  be  sure  God 
put  the  thought  in  your  heart;  and  He  will  help  you,  and 
bless  and  love  you  if  you  obey." 

"  But  who  tells  us  to  do  wicked  things,  auntie  ?  " 

"  Satan,  who  is  a  very  wicked,  cruel  spirit ;  he  hates 
God,  and  —  " 

"  Poh,  auntie  !  I  shan't  mind  him.  He  is  a  hateful  old 
fellow.  I  heard  a  dressed-up  man  say  on  the  street, 

I 


WHAT    SANTA    GLAUS    LEFT.  125 

the  other  day,  that  Jack  Stillman  and  his  father  acted 
like  the  devil.  He  is  Satan  —  isn't  he  ?  Poh  !  he  is 
mean." 

"  But,  my  dear  child,  Satan  is  a  very  powerful  spirit. 
There  is  only  one  Being  stronger  than  he." 

"  Who  is  that,  auntie  ?     God  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear.  God  can  help  you  resist  this  malicious 
being,  and  when  you  pray,  '  Lead  us  not  into  temptation, 
deliver  us  from  evil/  that  is  what  you  mean.  You  must 
not  forget  to  ask  God  to  take  care  of  you,  my  dear 
children,  every  day ;  neither  must  you  forget  to  thank 
him  for  all  his  blessings." 

"  These  are  blessings,  I  suppose,"  said  Wallace,  point- 
ing at  his  sled. 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Well,  I  thank  him  for  all  mine,  and  I  mean  to  be 
good,  and  love  him." 

"  Who,  do  you  suppose,  did  it,  auntie  ?  "  said  Winnie, 
smiling.  "  I  guess  they  wanted  to  put  some  sugar  in 
our  lives  —  didn't  they  ?  I  wish  I  knew  who,  so  that  I 
could  love  them." 

Hester  and  Martha  looked  at  each  other,  and  smiled. 

"Why,  St.  Nicholas,  of  course,"  said  Wallace  ;  "he  is 
always  doing  such  things  at  Christmas  time.  He  is  a 
funny  old  man,  and  slept  between  two  feather  beds,  one 
night,  when  he  didn't  want  to  go  out.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber, mamma  used  to  tell  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  be  funny,"  said  Sunshine,  who  had  finished 
the  last  peppermint,  and  commenced  a  stick  of  molasses 
candy.  "Yes,  he  is  a  kind  old  San  Dicolas  —  isn't  he, 
auntie  ?  He  gis  my  'ittle  beauty  sister  a  cunning  rattle. 
Mayn't  I  gis  it  to  her,  when  she  wakes  up  '(  " 

. 


126  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOEK. 

"  Yes,  dear ;  but  auntie  cannot  let  you  eat  any  more 
caiidy  to-night.  It  will  make  darling  sick,  and  auntie 
will  have  to  give  her  bitter  medicine." 

"I  likes  bitter  things,  auntie,"  said  the  child,  demurely; 
"  let  me  eat  it  all  up." 

"  No,  dear,"  said  Hester,  decidedly;  "give  it  to  me, 
now  ;  in  the  morning  you  shall  have  it." 

"  No,  no,"  persisted  the  child.  "  Santa  Dicolas  told 
somebody  I  might  eat  it  all  up.  He  wants  to  sweeten 
me  all  sweet,  he  do.  Now  I'll  tell  him,"  she  said,  pout- 
ing out  the  red  lips,  and  crying. 

"  He  won't  bring  naughty  folks  any,  next  time." 

"0,  sissy,  sissy,"  said  Winnie,  hurriedly,  "he  won't 
bring  you  any  more  if  you  talk  so.  Aunt  Judith  says 
we  must  be  good  all  the  time,  and  never  say  things, 
because  we  are  orphans.  She  says  we  must  be  still,  and 
never  get  in  the  way,  nor  anything,  or  folks  won't  have 
us  round.  0,  dear  !  won't  you  stop  crying  ?  " 

Hester  and  Martha  gave  each  other  a  sharp,  quick,  in- 
dignant look. 

"  When  did  she  tell  you  all  that  ?  "  said  Hester. 

"  Out  in  the  porch,  auntie,  when  I  was  playing  ;  it 
made  me  cry.  She  told  me  not  to  laugh -so  loud,  for  I 
was  worse  than  an  orphan,  and  it  didn't  look  well.  But 
Fanny  told  me  orphans  were  good  as  anybody.  She 
said  I  might  laugh  as  loud  as  I  pleased,  for  I  wasn't  half 
as  much  in  the  way  as  aunt  Judith." 

"  Well,"  said  Hester  to  Martha,  "  I  shall  have  to  talk 
to  that  woman.  I  didn't  mean  to,  but  I  must.  Mary 
always  stood  between  us  when  she  was  alive." 

Martha  nodded  assent,  and  said,  "  Father  and  mother 
wanted  to  have  the  children  come  in  a  little  while." 


JUDITII    LOVEKING'S    ADVICE.  12t 

Elida  was  as  sunny  as  ever  by  this  time. 

"  0,  funny  !  "  she  shouted  ;  "  now  I'll  gis  the  plums." 

"  There/'  said  Hester,  when  the  children  had  left 
the  room,  "I  am  glad  they  are  gone,  for  I  am  burst- 
ing almost  with  indignation,  and  I  feel  like  crying, 
too.  What  a  strange  woman  that  Judith  Lovering  is  ! 
Only  think  of  it.  Trying  to  dampen  and  darken  the  little 
bit  of  enjoyment  the  poor  child  was  having.  There  are 
dark  shadows  enough  around  her  now,  without  her 
throwing  any.  Why,  Mr.  Lovering  will  find  it  hard  to 
get  a  housekeeper,  on  her  account.  I  don't  think  he 
knows  her  yet.  Mary,  our  angel  Mary,  took  all  her 
poison  shafts  into  her  own  tender  bosom.  0,  she  hid 
them  away  there,  and  they  killed  her ;  I  don't  hesitate  to 
say  it.  She  didn't  let  her  husband  know  what  she  had 
to  endure.  She  tried  to  hide  her  meanness  from  him, 
from  every  one.  Yes^  she  bore  it  silently  and  alone,  and 
it  killed  her.  I  have  seen  things  there  that  would  make 
a  saint  '  angry,  and  sin  not ; '  and  sometimes  I  wanted  to 
tell  her  what  I  thought  of  her ;  but  Mary  would  beg  so, 
that  I  desisted.  But  Winnie  is  a  sensitive  child,  and  I 
shall  talk  with  Judith,  for  —  " 

"Ah,"  said  Martha,  "  she  was  rightly  named  Judith 
Small.  I  wish  she  had  never  changed  it,  for  Mary  did 
fail  so  fast  after  she  went  there,  that  I  feel  as  you  do." 


128  HJESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    'WORK. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

WINNIE'S  VISIT,  AND  TOE  PARTY. 

HESTER  exhausted  her  ingenuity  in  preparing-  Winnie 
for  her  visit  at  Mr.  Trueman's.  She  dressed  her  in  her 
very  best,  and  took  her  into  grandpa's,  that  they  might 
help  her  fortify  the  shrinking  child  for  the  events  of  the 
day. 

"  Now,  praise  her  all  you  can  truthfully,"  said  Hester 
aside  ;  "  it  won't  hurt  a  child  like  her." 

"  You  look  like  a  posy,"  said  grandpa,  "just  picked 
out  of  the  garden,  with  the  dew  all  on." 

"  She  is  as  comely  as  her  mother,"  said  grandma ; 
"  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal.  How  curious  you  arc, 
Hester  !  She  looks  well  enough  to  go  to  the  parson's, 
or  anywhere  else,  as  to  that  matter.  She  makes  me 
think  of  the  old  adage,  —  '  Pretty  is  that  pretty  docs.' 
She  looks  like  a  modest  little  violet  with  that  blue  dress 
on."  And  grandma  stroked  the  child's  smooth  hair 
with  her  wrinkled  hand,  and  smiled,  until  Winnie  thought 
she,  too,  was  beautiful,  and  wondered  why  grandma  Lin- 
tell  was  so  different. 

Martha  said  her  dress  was  neat  and  becoming;  and 
hoped  she  would  enjoy  the  day.  They  all  sent  kind 
regards  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Trucman. 

"  Shall  I  say,  '  Grandpa  and  grandma  sent  their  love 
to  you,  and  my  aunt  Hester  and  aunt  Martha,  too?'  Is 
Iha)  right?"  said  \Yinni<>,  hesitatingly. 


WINNIE'S    VISIT,    AND    THE    PARTY.  129 

"  Yes,  that  will  do  nicely/'  said  Hester. 

"  Very  nicely,"  said  the  rest. 

She  kissed  baby  and  Elida,  said  good  morning  cheer- 
fully, and  went  forth  to  find  that  every  cup  of  happiness 
contained  a  little  drop  of  something  "bitter,  or  sour,  or 
bad,"  as  Wallace  said,  dropped  into  it  sometimes  wick- 
edly, sometimes  thoughtlessly,  sometimes  accidentally. 
She  spent  the  morning  pleasantly,  playing  with  Susie 
and  her  dollies,  dressing  and  undressing  them,  rocking 
them  to  sleep,  &c.,  until  Susie  said, — 

"  Did  you  have  some  at  your  house,  Winnie  ?  " 

"  Once,"  was  the  reply  ;  ."  but  they  wasn't  like  these. 
My  mamma  made  them,"  —  with  a  little  sigh. 

"  0,  I  forgot ;  mother  told  me  not  to  ask  you,"  she 
said,  apologetically.  "  Of  course  they  were  pretty  if 
your  dear  mother  made  them.  She  isn't  dead,  —  is  she, 
Winnie  ?  She  is  up  in  heaven  with  God  and  my  darling 
brothers,  that  went  before  I  was  born.  But  I  shall  know 
them.  Grandpa  and  grandma  went  since  I  was  a  big 
girl.  They  will  know  them,  and  find  them  for  me.  0, 
you  are  crying !  what  makes  you  ?  You  will  see  her 
again.  Mother  says  she  was  good.  Don't  cry  ;  I  am 
sorry  I  speaked  about  it,  if  it  makes  you  feel  bad.  I 
didn't  mean  to  ;  mother  said  I  mustn't  unless  you  did. 
Come,  don't  cry,  and  I  will  give  you  old  Hagar  ;  you 
liked  her  best.  Mother  will  be  willing.  She  wants 
you  to  love  us,  because  —  "  Susie  stammered  ;  she  was 
afraid  to  say  "  because  you  arc  a  poor  motherless  child, 
with  a  drunken  father  ;  "  so  she  put  her  arms  around  her 
neck,  almost  crying  herself,  and  said,  — 

"  I  am  real  sorry  I  said  it." 

"  0,  it  wasn't  Y..U  that  made  me  cry,"  said  Winnie, 
9 


130  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    "WORK. 

returning  the  caress.  "  I  like  you,  and  your  papa  and 
mamma.  I  remember  the  Christmas  presents  ;  they  were 
so  beautiful !  But  when  I  think  of  my  dead  mamma,  I 
always  cry.  I  don't  mean  to,  but  I  do.  0,  I  wanted  her 
to  stay  with  me,  but  she  couldn't ;  and  most  all  the  time 
I  want  to  go  to  her ;  but  aunt  Hester  says  God  wants 
me  dbwn  here  for  something.  There,  I  won't  cry  any 
more  ;  it  makes  you  feel  bad  ;  but  I  want  something.  I 
want  to  love  Jesus."  And  Winnie  wiped  and  wiped 
the  little  red  eyes.  But  they  wouldn't  stay  dry. 

"No,  I  ain't  crying  about  that,"  said  Susie;  "but  I 
was  thinking  what  if  God  should  take  my  mamma,  and 
leave  me.  I  should*  cry  all  the  time  then,  I  believe." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't  all  the  time,"  said  Winnie  ;  "  God 
would  help  you  forget  it.  Uaven't  you  got  some  books 
with  pictures  in  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  whole  lot ;  ceme  into  the  library,  and  I'll 
show  you." 

Before  dinner  the  little  girls  were  very  happy,  and  the 
best  of  friends. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Trueman  succeeded  in  diverting  Win- 
nie's mind  from  painful  thoughts  during  the  dinner  hour. 
The  children  Vied  with  each  other  in  showing  her  kind 
attentions. 

"  Be  you  got  a  brother  ?  "  said  Walter. 

"  Yes,  and  two  sisters  ;  one  little  baby  sister,  and 
another  about  as  big  as  you.  I  think  you  would  love 
them,"  said  Winnie,  glancing  up  at  Mr.  and  Mrs.  True- 
man. 

"  0,  yes,  I  know  we  shall.  When  it  is  warm  weather, 
we  are  going  to  bring  Miss  Hester  and  her  pets  over 
here  to  spend  several  weeks.  Do  you  like  cherries  ?" 


WINNIE'S    VISIT,    AND    THE    PARTY.  131 

"Yes'm,"  was  the  reply;  "but  I  shan't  be  there 
then,"  —  drawing  a  long  breath.  "I'm  going  to  aunt 
Elevia's." 

"  0,  well,  that  isn't  far  off,"  said  Mr.  Trueman,  cheer- 
fully. "  Your  uncle  trades  at  my  store,  and  I  will  ask 
him  to  bring  you  over  when  they  are  here." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  "  you  will  go  to  school 
with  Susie  ;  and,  as  I  think  you  are  a  good,  truthful 
girl,  I  shall  ask  your  aunt  to  let  you  come  often  and 
spend  the  night  with  us.  Would  you  like  to  ?  " 

"  0,  yes'm  ;  "  and  Winnie  gave- a  quick  glance  at  Susie, 
who  met  her  look  with  a  bright,  broad  smile.  She  smiled 
cordially  in  return.  The  shadows  faded  from  her  heart, 
the  sadness  from  her  face.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Trueman 
looked  at  each  other  significantly,  well  pleased  with  the 
result  of  their  efforts  to  cheer  this,  Christ's  little  one  ; 
when  little  Walter,  wishing  to  occupy  a  silent  moment, 
said  to  Winnie,  — 

"  Do  your  father  be  in  the  naughty  jail-house  now  ?  " 

The  parents  tried  to  check  the  unfortunate  question, 
but  too  late.  Winnie  blushed,  gave  a  quick  glance 
around  the  table,  looked  down,  and  burst  into  tears. 

With  the  thoughtfulness  of  mature  age,  Susie  arose 
and  said,  — 

"  Come  and  see  my  birdies.  I'll  give  you  something 
to  feed  them  with." 

As  the  children  left  the  room,  Mr.  Trueman  said,  — 

"  Walter,  don't  speak  to  the  little  girl  about  her 
father  or  mother  again  —  will  you  ?  It  makes  her  feel 
badly.  Linnie,  we  shall  have  to  be  more  guarded  in 
speaking  before  the  children.  I  would  rather  have  given 
a  great  deal  than  to  have  had  this  happen." 


132  HESTER   STROXG'S    LIFE   WORK. 

"  I's  sorry  "Walter  made  the  little  lady  cry,  papa. 
Walter  sorry  ;  never  do  it  another  time,  papa." 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  she  is  so  sensitive/'  said  Mr.  True- 
man.  "Situated  as  she  is,  life  will  be  full  of  pain.  I 
wonder  what  can  be  done  to  help  her  overcome  it." 

"  Kind  treatment  and  time  will  do  something  for  her," 
was  the  reply.  "Only  think  what  she  has  seen  and  suffered 
in  the  last  few  months.  What  would  become  of  our 
Susie,  or  Lucy  even  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  hard  case,  Linnie.  I  am  so  outraged  with  our 
law-makers,  that  I  can't  sit  down  quietly  any  longer. 
Such  a  child  needs  a  father,  and  so  do  all  children  ;  and 
yet  the  law,  which  claims  to  guard  the  rights  of  the  peo- 
ple so  very  humanely,  sanctions  a  traffic  which,  I  should 
think,  a  demon  would  be  ashamed  to  engage  in. 

"  I  tell  you,  Linnie,  the  more  I  come  in  contact  with 
mankind,  the  more  I  see  of  life,  the  more  I  am  convinced 
of  the  depravity  of  the  race ;  you  may  call  it  total,  if 
you  like.  And  that  there  is  a  wicked,  malignant  spirit, 
full  of  all  manner  of  evil,  and  cruel  as  death,  is  just  as 
plain  to  my  mind  as  that  there  is  a  God. 

"  There  is  our  hope.  There  is  a  God,  perfect  in  all 
his  attributes ;  infinite  in  power,  as  well  as  holiness. 
Some  time  he  will  overthrow  this  whole  scheme  of  wicked- 
ness, and  cause  that  truth  and  justice  shall  prevail." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  I  called  on 
Stillmau,  and  talked  as  kindly  as  I  could,  and  made  about 
as  much  impression  on  him  as  I  should  in  talking  to  a  worm. 
But  I'll  have  it  yet ;  see  if  I  don't." 

"  What  do  you  refer  to,  dear  ?  "  said  his  wife. 

"  Why,  the  liquor  law.  It  has  got  to  come,  let  them 
rage  as  much  as  they  please." 


WINNIE'S    VISIT,  AND    THE    PARTY.  133 

"  Then  you  think  it  will  bo  passed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  It  may  not  this  year,  but  it  must  eventu- 
ally. The  right  must  prevail.  Lucy,  you  had  better  stay 
in  the  parlor,  and  help  the  children  along.  Keep  them, 
at  play,  and  see  that  no  one  slights  Lottie  Gray  or  Win- 
nie Lentell ;  that  is  a  good  girl." 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  in,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman  ;  "  and 
we  can  keep  them  busy  —  can't  we,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  shall  like  it,  if  you  go  ;  I'm  afraid 
they  wouldn't  mind  me." 

"  Lucy,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  "  several  of  the  little 
girls  are  coming ;  wait  on  them  into  the  nursery.  Let 
us  be  careful  not  to  slight  any,  nor  make  '  lions  '  of  them, 
but  treat  them  as  nearly  alike  as  possible.  But  if  any 
among  them  seem  bashful,  or  sad,  or  timid,  we  must  take 
extra  pains  to  make  them  feel  at  ease.  They  are  our 
guests,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  mother,  I'll  remember.  I  have  noticed  how  you 
manage." 

There  was  a  little  reserve  at  first ;  Lottie  Gray  was 
painfully  embarrassed,  though  very  well  dressed,  thanks 
to  Mrs.  Stillman.  She  saw  Clara  whisper  to  Regena 
Stcele,  and  felt  sure  she  was  telling  her,  "  That  is  my 
dress,"  &c.  She  shrank  away  in  one  corner,  and  wished 
she  was  at  home.  But  Lucy's  quick  eye  detected  the 
trouble  in  a  moment,  and  she  took  vigorous  measures  to 
remedy  the  evil. 

"  Come,  girls,"  said  she,  "  let  us  play  '  Button.'  Who 
will  go  round  first  ?  Well,  I  will  begin  at  Clara.  Susie, 
you  and  Winnie  corne  over  here  and  sit  by  Lottie  ;  she  is 
a  little  stranger  to  most  of  us.  I  am  glad  you  could  come 
to-day,  Lottie ;  mother  wants  you  to  get  acquainted." 


134  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Choose  me  for  your  judge,"  whispered  Lucy  to  Win- 
nie and  Lottie.  They  did  so,  and  she  was  sure  to  make 
their  penalties  as  light  as  could  be,  so  that  they  need  not 
feel  embarrassed. 

"  0,  you  are  having  a  nice  time,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman. 
"  When  you  are  tired  of  that,  you  can  play  '  Ilunt  the 
squirrel.'  You  all  know  how  to  play  it,  I  presume." 

"  0,  that  will  be  nice,"  said  Susie.  "  Come,  Winnie 
and  Lottie." 

"  Suppose  you  stay  and  hide  the  squirrel,  Regena," 
eaid  Lucy. 

And  so  the  plays  "  Hunt  the  squirrel,"  "  Dress  the 
lady,"  "  Magic  music,"  &c.,  went  on  briskly  till  nearly 
tea  time.  Then  Mrs.  Trueman  played  and  sang. 

Lottie  entirely  forgot  herself  and  her  misfortunes.  She 
had  a  natural  passion  for  music,  and  a  fine  voice.  But 
the  supper  —  that  surpassed  anything  she  had  ever  seen. 

Mrs.  Trueman  was  amused  to  see  her  give  a  quick 
glance  of  pleased  surprise,  and  then  apparently  remain 
as  unobservant  as  those  always  accustomed  to  such 
things.  Evidently  she  was  learning. 

"The  party  was  an  entire  success,  Lucy,"  said  Mrs. 
Trueman.  "I  was  pleased  with  you  —  very  much  so; 
and  Susie,  here,  was  a  very  good  girl.  I  think  our  visitors 
were  pleased  with  us,  too,  with  themselves,  and  with 
each  other." 

"  That  is  the  greatest  possible  compliment  to  their 
entertainers,"  said  Mr.  Trueman,  smiling.  "  You  both 
look  as  if  you  needed  rest.  I  think  you  have  spent  the 
afternoon  profitably.  It  is  a  grand,  a  noble  work,  to  help 
bring  out  and  cultivate  the  affections  of  the  young,  and 
promote  a  friendly,  cheerful,  loving  spirit  among  them. 


WINNIE'S    VISIT,    AND    THE    PARTY.  135 

There  is  where  our  forefathers  failed  ;  don't  you  think  so, 
Linnie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  was  one  of  their  greatest  mistakes. 
The  emotional  nature  was 'sometimes  smothered  by  the 
sterner  qualities,  and  life  robbed  of  half  its  beauty  and 
brightness.  But  I  fear  the  next  generation  will  go  to 
the  other  extreme." 


136  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER     XV. 

MAKING  CALLS  HERE  AND  THERE. 

WE  will  take  a  peep  at  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stillman.  They 
are  at  breakfast.  The  table  looks  inviting1,  but  the  faces 
around  it  sorrowful,  or  forbidding. 

John's  name  is  seldom  spoken  there  ;  but  he  is  often 
thought  of —  with  painful  forebodings  by  the  mother  ; 
with  undefined  fears  by  the  sister.  Mr.  Stillman  was 
absorbed,  most  of  the  time,  in  his  lawful  calling  —  deal- 
ing out  liquid  poison  —  taking  just  enough  to  drown  the 
still  small  voice  within.  John  had  shown  himself  so  apt 
a  scholar,  and  seemed  so  mature  in  wickedness,  made  the 
golden  profits  of  the  rum  casks  disappear  so  strangely, 
that  Mr.  Stillman  thought  the  safest  course  was  to  send 
him  to  a  reform  school. 

"  Well,  Maria,"  said  Mr.  Stillman,  "  so  you  have  taken 
up  the  hatchet,  and  mean  to  withstand  me  —  do  you  ? 
We'll  see.  You  shall  go  looking  decently,  or  not  go 
at  all." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  prevent  it,"  she  said,  defiant- 
ly ;  "  but  as  to  decency,  I  think  1  dress  far  more  decently 
now  than  I  have  done  in  the  past,  considering,"  —  bend- 
ing over  towards  him,  and  fixing  her  eyes  steadily  upon 
liis  face,  speaking  very  slowly  and  impressively,  —  "con- 
sidering where  the  money  comes  from.  Isn't  it  so,  Kid- 
der  ?  I  tell  you,  if  an  angel  should  engage  in  that  busi- 


MAKING    CALLS    HERE    AND    THERE.  137 

ness,  it  would  make  a  demon  of  him  after  a  while.  Well, 
it  is  no  use  to  talk  ;  while  you  continue  in  that  business 
you  are  nothing  to  me  but  a  shame.  The  sooner  I  die  the 
better  for  me  ." 

"  And  for  me,  too,"  said  the  enraged  husband,  mock- 
ingly. 

Ah,  well,  you  have  seen  enough  of  this  family  to  give 
you  an  insight  into  their  lives.  Maria  was  right  in  her 
opposition.  She  was  fighting  on  the  right  side,  and 
against  the  common  enemy. 

Let  us  go  with  her  to  Mr.  Gray's.  She  has  been 
there  before  sine*  the  awful  tragedy  we  have  mentioned. 
She  was  met  at  first  suspiciously.  Was  she  not  the 
wife  of  the  man  who  had  blighted  their  lives,  blasted 
all  their  happiness  ?  Why  had  she  come  ?  To  look  at 
their  poverty  and  destitution  ?  They  were  both  embar- 
rassed. 

"I  called,"  she  said,  "to  see  if  I  could  not  do  some- 
thing for  you." 

She  broke  down,  and  wept.  That  was  after  the  fu- 
neral. Those  tears  opened  the  bleeding  hearts  of  the 
family ;  they  wept  together,  and  then  talked  it  all  over, 
and  from  that  day  were  fast  friends.  As  she  heard 
Mr.  Gray's  honest,  manly  statement  of  facts,  she  was 
mortified,  distressed,  and  indignant,  in  turn.  0,  what  a 
revelation  that  was  to  her  I 

"  This  distresses  you,"  said  Mr.  Gray.  "  I  will  stop  ; 
it  will  do  no  good." 

"  Yes,  it  will,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  I  ought  to  know  it. 
It  seems  like  some  awful  story  I  have  read  ;  arid  yet  all 
this  lias  happened  at  my  very  door.  IIow  could  I  have 
been  kept  in  ignorance  ?  So  poor  Mrs.  Gray  inherited 


138  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

one  of  those  morbid  appetites  for  such  things.  You 
told  Mr.  Stillman  of  her  weakness,  and  yet  he  —  "  She 
remained  silent  a  few  moments,  and  then  continued  :  "  I 
shall  do  what  I  can  to  repair  the  injury  ;  but  I  cannot 
raise  the  dead.  But  as  fast  as  I  can,  I  shall  buy  back 
the  articles  of  furniture,  and  return  them  to  you.  The 
looking-glass  is  in  my  spare  chamber,  I  should  think,  by 
your  description." 

"  0,"  said  Mr.  Gray,  much  affected,  "  I  cannot  ask, 
or  expect,  that.  If  you  will  be  a  friend  to  my  children, 
and  show  Lottie  a  little  about  housekeeping,  it  will  be  a 
great  kindness."  • 

"  That  I  will  do  with  pleasure  ;  and  if  you  won't  be 
offended,  I  have  garments,  which  my  children  have  out- 
grown, that  I  should  like  to  bring  over." 

"  Persons  in  our  circumstances  must  conquer  their 
pride,"  was  the  reply.  "  We  should  be  glad  of  them." 

As  Mrs.  Stillman  left  the  house,  she  thrust  a  little  wad 
of  something  into  Lottie's  hand,  and  disappeared. 

Lottie  spread  it  out. 

"Ten  dollars!"  -she  exclaimed.  "What  does  she 
mean,  father  ?  Why,  she  has  made  a  mistake." 

"  I  guess  not,  my  daughter  ;  God  has  put  it  in  her 
heart  to  give  it.  This  will  enable  me  to  pay  for  the 
coffin  and  the  shroud,  dear." 

Mr.  Gray  sighed  deeply  as  he  thought  of  the  past ; 
a  tear  crept  very  silently  down  his  prematurely  wrinkled 
cheek  as  he  took  the  wife's  offering,  and  went  on  think- 
ing thoughts  which  cut  and  lacerated  his  soul  which- 
ever way  he  turned  them.  0,  sometimes  God  cannot 
bestow  a  greater  blessing  than  forgetfulness  ;  and  some- 
times it  is  inexpressibly  blessed  to  remember.  Mrs. 
Stillman  proved  invaluable  to  the  afllicted  family. 


MAKING    CALLS    HERE    AND    THERE.  139 

To-day,  as  she  left  her  house  to  call  on  them,  —  a  bag 
of  sugar,  tea,  and  other  necessaries  on  her  arm,  a  large, 
gilt  mirror  in  them,  —  her  tall  form  looked  queenly,  in 
spite  of  last  year's  cloak  and  bonnet.  She  did  not  do  this 
stealthily,  but  openly  and  by  much  personal  sacrifice. 

"  Father  thanks  you,  and  we  all  thank  you  very  much 
for  the  money,"  said  Lottie,  meeting  her  at  the  door. 
"  It  helped  him  pay  for  mother's  coffin  and  things." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  dear  child,  to  me  or  any  one.  I 
wish  it  had  been  ten  times  as  much.  I  am  only  doing 
for  you  what  I  ought  to  do  ;  and  yet  I  cannot  undo  the 
past,"  she  said,  mournfully. 

"  0,  don't  feel  so  badly,  dear  Mrs.  Stillman,"  said 
Lottie,  affectionately;  "you  didn't  do  it;  we  don't 
blame  you." 

Mrs.  Stillman  was  weeping ;  she  must  speak  to  some 
one,  or  her  heart  would  break.  She  looked  up  into  the 
sweet,  pitying  face  of  the  child  before  her,  and  said,  — 

"  Lottie,  you  cannot  understand  how  much  this  terri- 
ble business  of  liquor  selling  has  cost  me.  It  has  robbed 
your  poor  father  of  that  which  was  very  dear ;  it  has 
killed  your  mother  and  the  baby,  and  stripped  your 
house  of  every  comfort ;  and  when  I  think  who  fur- 
nished it,  I  tremble  ;  for  there  is  an  avenging  God." 

"  0,  but  father  says  God  loves  and  pities  us,  too," 
said  Lottie.  "He  forgives  us  when  we  are  sorry.  I 
know  he  loves  you,  Mrs.  Stillman,  you  are  so  good  to 
us.  Father  prays  for  you  every  day,  and  asks  him  to 
lead  you  into  the  kingdom  of  grace,  and  give  you  rest." 

"  Dear  Lottie,"  said  Mrs.  Stillman,  taking  her  hand, 
"  you  comfort  me.  If  your  father  can  pray  for  me,  I 
surely  ought  to  pray  for  myself.  You  think  I  am  much 
better  off  than  you  are  —  don't  you  ?  " 


140  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  thought  so,"  was  the  reply.  "  Your 
house  is  nice,  and  you  have  everything — don't  you?" 

Mrs.  Stillman  smiled  sadly  as  she  replied,  — 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  great  many  beautiful  things ;  but 
these  cannot  make  us  happy.  I  have  been  robbed 
as  much  as  you  have,  dear,  but  not  in  the  same  way. 
0,  I  would  change  places  with  you  this  moment,  if  I 
could." 

Lottie  was  perplexed. 

"  Your  mother  loved  you  to  the  last —  did  she  not  ?  " 

"  0,  yes ;  when  she  was  sober  she  loved  us  ;  she  was 
never  cross." 

"  And  your  father  is  an  honest  Christian  man  ;  that  is 
much  to  be  thankful  for.  But  how  are  you  getting 
along  ?  Can  I  help  you  about  anything  to-day  ?  " 

"  Father  told  me  to  ask  you  how  I  should  cook  this 
veal." 

Lottie  listened  attentively,  like  one  determined  to 
profit  by  instruction. 

"  It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  instruct  you,"  said  Mrs.  Still- 
man, "  you  are  so  teachable.  You  must  come  over 
when  you  want  advice  ;  looking  after  you  is  one  of  the 
greatest  comforts  of  my  life." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  the  simple-hearted  child ;  "  for  I 
don't  know  what  I  should  do  if  you  didn't  help  me." 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that  before,"  mused  Mrs.  Still- 
man, as  she  went  to  her  home  of  plenty —  of  everything 
but  "peace  and  comfort.  "  I  never  thought  of  that.  God 
is  a  loving,  pitying  Father,  as  well  as  a  just,  avenging 
Judge.  0,  yes,  Jesus  was  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  ac- 
quainted with  grief.  I  cannot  live  so.  I  wonder  what 
Lottie  thought  of  me.  Dear  child,  she  cannot  know 


MAKING    CALLS    HEEE    AND    THERE.  141 

how  awful  it  is  to  have  the  heart's  best  treasures  stolen, 
and  the  soul  stripped  of  love  and  respect  for  one's  com- 
panion in  life,  arid  filled  with  contempt  and  scorn. 
Truly,  I  have  seen  my  idol  shattered,  my  poor  boy 
ruined,  and  my  pleasant  things  laid  waste.  Lord,  pity 
me  !  " 

Now  that  Mrs.  Stillman  has  turned  her  thoughts 
heavenward,  let  us  leave  her,  and  call  at  Mr.  Trueman's. 
Mrs.  Truemau,  Lucy,  and  Susie  are  preparing  for  a  walk. 
They  look  odd  enough  with  their  baskets,  bundles,  and 
pails  —  all  they  can  possibly  carry.  Lucy  laughed 
heartily  as  she  surveyed  the  company. 

"  I  chose  evening,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  "  because  it 
would  look  ostentatious  to  carry  all  this  in  the  daytime, 
and  injure  their  feelings.  In  assisting  the  poor  and 
needy,  we  should  do  it  as  delicately  as  possible  ;  other- 
wise it  will  leave  a  sense  of  shame  and  degradation  which 
is  injurious  to  proper  self-respect.  We  will  wait  a 
moment  for  papa  ;  he  would  not  miss  going.  lie  will 
take  that  bundle  of  clothing  for  Mr.  Gray  and  Albert. 
Lucy,  you  may  take  Lottie's  new  dress  and  cape  ;  Susie, 
the  bonnet  and  gloves.  I  want  her  to  forget  her  sor- 
row as  much  as  possible.  She  is  a  noble  little  girl ; 
these  new  things  will  make  her  think  of  our  love  and 
respect." 

"  Walter  wants  something  —  take  it,"  grieved  the 
child.  "  Walter  wants  to  go,  too." 

"  Darling  child,"  said  mamma,  stooping  and  kissing 
him  ;  "he  cannot  go  with  mamma  to-night.  Father  will 
let  us  ride  some  day  with  him,  and  we  will  call  and  seo 
the  little  girl  and  her  brother  Albert;  that  will  do  — 
won't  il,  darling?" 


142  HESTER    STRONG'S   LIFE   WORK. 

"Next  day  —  to-morrow  —  mamma,"  said  the  child, 
pleasantly,  "  Walter  and  mamma  go  to  ride  with  papa. 
That  do,  mamma." 

"  God  is  blessing  us  far  beyond  our  deserts,"  said  Mr. 
Gray.  "  Let  us  thank  him  for  his  goodness  in  the  past, 
and  trust  him  in  the  future,  my  children." 

The  Trueman  family  returned  home  that  night  realizing 
fully  that  "  it  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive." 


THE    SEPARATION.  143 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  SEPARATION.  —  THE  AGED  CHRISTIAN'S  DEATH-BED. 

WALLACE  came  bounding  into  the  room  one  day,  say- 

i"ff»  — 

"  See,  auntie,  see  !     Albert  and  I  have  found  these," 

holding  up  some  trailing  arbutus. 

"0,  yes,"  said  Hester,  "that  looks  like  spring-— 
doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  0,  dear  me  !  "  said  Sunshine  ;  "  dey's  my  'ittle  sweet 
springs  !  0,  funny,  funny  !  " 

"  I  didn't  want  to  see  them,"  said  Winnie,  timidly. 

"Didn't  you,  dear?  Why  not?"  said  Hester,  who 
guessed  the  reason. 

"  Why,  they  say  things,  auntie  ;  everything  talks  to 
me." 

"  Why,  dese  don't  talk,"  said  Sunshine  ;  "  don't  you 
love  my  springs  ?  " 

"  What  do  they  say  ?  "  said  Hester.  "  Tell  auntie 
about  it." 

"  0,  they  say,  '  Winnie,  it  is  May  now  ;  you  must  go 
to  aunt  Elevia's,  and  leave  auntie  and  Wallace,  Elida  and 
baby.'  " 

"  What  else  talks  ?  "  said  Wallace. 

"  Everything ;  the  chimney  on  the  large  house  away 
over  the  woods  talks,  too.  It  looks  like  papa's  house, 
where  grandma  Lcntell  lives." 


144  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  What  do  it  say  ?  "  said  Elida,  with  wondering  eyes. 

"  She  means  that  these  things  remind  her  of  other 
things,  or  make  her  remember  them,"  said  Hester.  "My 
dear  child,  you  must  not  let  things  talk  to  you  so  much  ; 
that  is,  you  must  not  look  at  things  that  make  you  feel 
unhappy — remind  you  of  unpleasant  events.  But  you 
must  look  at  things  that  remind  you  of  the  goodness  of 
God  and  the  kindness  of  friends." 

"  What  things  are  those  ?  "  said  Wallace. 

"  Why,  little  brother  and  sisters,  the  nice  presents  from 
grandpa,  and  kind  Mr.  Trueman's  folks,"  said  Ilester. 

"  And  at  my  darling  dear  auntie,"  said  Winnie,  cheer- 
fully. "  If  I  could  always  look  at  you,  auntie,  things 
wouldn't  talk  so  sadly  to  me.  But  this  baby  almost 
always  makes  me  think  of  mamma.  And  then  I  think 
how  papa,  and  mamma,  and  Elida,  all  went  down  to 
grandpa  Lovering's,  in  the  winter  before  mamma  died  ; 
and  how  they  were  coming  home  that  very  night,  but  a 
great  big  snow  came,  and  the  wind  blew,  and  piled  it  all 
up  so  they  couldn't  get  home  for  one,  two,  three —  four 
days,  wasn't  it,  AVallacc  ?  And  we  hadn't  anything  but 
potatoes  to  eat,  for  papa  left  us  with  grandma  Lentcll 
till  he  came  home  ;  but  aunt  Abigail  and  grandma  acted 
go  we  wouldn't  stay.  We  ran  home  in  the  snow  before 
night,  for  we  thought  they'd  come ;  but  they  didn't.  0, 
it  was  such  a  long  night !  Wallace  went  to  sleep,  but  I 
couldn't;  for  I  thought  papa  and  mamma  would  get  into 
the  deep  snow,  in  the  dark  ;  and  when  the  wind  made  a 
noise,  I  thought  it  was  them.  0,  dear,  dear  !  it  makes 
me  shiver  now." 

"  What  did  grandma  do,  that  you  disliked  so  much  ?  " 
said  Hester. 


THE    SEPARATION.  145 

» 

"  Why,  she  said  I  looked  like  the  Loverings  too  much  ; 
and  when  I  said,  '  No,  I  thank  you/  she  and  Abigail 
laughed  so  loud,  and  said,  '  That's  Levering  all  over.' 
And  they  kept  doing  so,  and  saying  my  mamma  was 
slack,  until  I  was  just  as  mad  !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  say  'mad/  dear,"  said  Hester;  "  you  felt 
indignant,  I  suppose  ;  I  should,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes,  that  was  the  way  I  felt ;  and  I  told  Wallace  we 
would  run  home  when  they  didn't  know  it,  and  stay  till 
the  folks  came." 

"  Did  any  one  come  to  see  where  you  were  ?  " 

"Yes,  uncle  Simeon  came,  just  before  it  was  dark,  and 
wanted  us  to  go  home  with  him.  I  said  I  couldn't,  for 
grandma  didn't  love  us.  He  laughed,  and  said  I  was  a 
little  goose  to  mind  her,  for  she  didn't  love  anybody. 
But  I  couldn't  go ;  I  thought  they'd  come.  He  said  he'd 
stay,  but  mother  would  storm  worse  than  the  snow  if  he 
did.  So  the  next  day  after  one  he  came  and  brought  us 
something  in  a  pail,  and  said,  '  Mother  says  you  deserve 
to  starve  for  running  home  ;  but  she  has  sent  you  some- 
thing, little  spunk.'  I  was  real  glad,  for  I  thought,  now 
we'll  have  some  nice  doughnuts,  or  pancakes,  or  pie,  or 
something  good.  So  I  got  a  tin  pan  to  put  them  in,  and 
he  just  took  out  some  dry  pieces  of  bread,  most  all  crust, 
and  some  pieces  of  cheese.  Uncle  Simeon  said  an  awful 
thing  then,  auntie;  he  said  she  was  '  a  mean  old  cuss.' ' 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  Hester,  "  I  dislike  to  have 
you  repeat  such  language.  You  will  try  to  avoid  it  in 
the  future  —  won't  you?  Didn't  you  have  anything  but 
potatoes  all  that  time  ?  " 

"0,  yes,  auntie;  at  first  there  was  some  bread  and 
meat ;  but  we  ate  that  up  pretty  soon." 
10 


146  HESTER    STKOXG'S    LIFE    WOKK. 

"  What  did  your  father  say,  when  he  came  ?  " 

"Why,  he"  —  Winnie  hesitated — "why,  he  said  just 
as  uncle  Simeon  did." 

"  Did  he  say  old  fuss  ?  "  said  Elida. 

"  There,"  said  Hester,  "  you  see  how  quickly  the  little 
ones  catch  such  words.  So  you  must  be  careful  not  to 
speak  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  Winnie,  "  I  will.  But  after  father  went 
over  there,  he  said  she  served  us  right ;  we  ought  to 
have  staid  where  he  left  us.  They  brought  lots  of  nice 
things  from  grandpa  Lovering's.  I  was  glad  I  was  like 
them,  for  I  think  they  are  the  best — don't  you,  auntie?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  do  ;  and  I  like  to.  have  you  resemble 
them,  for  I  love  them  very  much." 

After  a  few  moments'  silence,  Winnie  said,  — 

"  How  long  is  a  year,  auntie  ?  " 

"  It  is  twelve  months,  darling." 

"  Well,  how  many  weeks  are  there  in  a  year  ?  " 

"  Fifty-two." 

"  0,  that  is  a  great  many,"  sighed  Winnie.  "  Well, 
how  many  days,  auntie  ?  " 

"  Three  hundred  and  —  " 

"  0,  auntie,  don't  say  any  more.  It  never  will  be 
over." 

"  Of  what  are  you  thinking  now,  dear  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  arn  to  stay  with  aunt  Elevia  a  year  ;  and  it 
is  so  very  long." 

Hester  saw  her  mistake  in  specifying  any  time  in  the 
child's  hearing.  She  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  She 
reflected  a  moment,  and  then  said,  cheerfully,  — 

"Perhaps  they  won't  want  you  so  long,  or  perhaps 
you  will  want  to  stay  always.  There  come  your  uncle 


THE    SEPARATION.  14f 

and  aunt  tins  moment.  Now,  see  what  a  brave  little 
girl  you  can  be." 

Winnie  turned  pale,  and  Hester  herself  felt  strangely 
agitated.  She,  too,  had  to  be  brave.  "When  Winnie 
was  prepared  to  go,  she  went  in  to  take  leave  of  grandpa 
Manlie's  family. 

"God  bless  you,  my  dear  little  girl,"  said  grandpa, 
"  and  keep  you,  and  bring  you  into  the  kingdom  at  last." 

Grandma  laid  her  hand  on  the  child's  head,  prayed 
silently  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  — 

"  Kiss  me,  little  Winnie,  good  by." 

"  You  must  come  and  see  us  often,"  said  Martha, 
striving  to  hide  her  emotion.  Something  in  her  mother's 
voice  and  manner  affected  her.  Winnie  kissed  the  chil- 
dren, calling  the  baby  many  pet  names  ;  but  when  she 
came  to  Hester,  she  threw  her  arms  convulsively  around 
her  neck,  overcome  with  suppressed  emotion. 

Hester  allowed  her  to  weep  a  few  moments,  simply 
drawing  her  close  to  her  bosom,  and  motioning  the 
others  to  be  silent.  She  then  led  her  into  another  room, 
and  said,  — 

"  Our  Father  in  heaven  has  ordered  it  so,  darling.  He 
knows  what  is  best  for  us  —  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  auntie  ;  but  I  am  so  wicked  I  can't  get  near 
enough  to  him.  He  is  away  off.  And  Jesus  is  good, 
and  wants  to  comfort  me  ;  but  I  am  so  naughty  I  want  to 
stay  with  you,  —  I  love  you  best,  — or  go  to  mamma.  I 
wish  I  could  love  Jesus  best." 

Hester  talked  very  kindly  to  the  child,  and  then,  kneel- 
ing down  by  her,  prayed  that  God  would  bless  little 
Winnie,  and  forgive  her  sins  for  Jesus'  sake  ;  that  the 
Blessed  Spirit  would  teach  her  to  be  good  and  happy  — 


148  HESTEK   STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

'  teach  her  to  cast  all  her  sorrows  upon  Jesus,  who  loved 
her  and  died  to  redeem  her.  "  Dear  Father,"  she  prayed, 
"  wilt  thou  pity  and  love  her,  and  help  her  to  love  and 
trust  iii  thee  !  —  Now,  dear,"  said  she,  "I  want  you  to 
promise  me  that  you  won't  talk  with  things  that  make  you 
sad,  but  when  you  are  lonesome  and  feel  badly,  go  and  tell 
Jesus.  He  alone  can  make  you  happy.  He  will  draw 
you  so  near  to  him  that  you  will  feel  safe.  Good  by, 
dear  —  be  brave." 

When  Winnie  had  left  the  room,  grandma  said,  with 
a  smile  on  her  wrinkled  face, — 

"  Martha,  it  is  the  last  time.  I  shan't  see  her  hero 
again.  I  shall  take  that  kiss  to  Harmony  and  Mary 
soon." 

Grandpa  arose,  went  to  the  bed  where  she  had  been 
lying  several  weeks,  took  her  hand  as  tenderly  as  he  had 
taken  it  more  than  sixty  years  before,  when  he  said, 
"Mary,  will  you  be  mine  —  take  me  for  better  arid  for 
worse  ?  "  and  said,  — 

"  Mary,  are  you  tired  ?  Are  you  going  home  to  leave 
me?  0,  Mary,  I  hoped  we  should  go  together  —  can't 
we  ?  "  bursting  into  tears. 

"  Sit  down  near  me,  father ;  I  want  to  talk  about  this. 
I  have  been  lingering  on  the  shore  some  time  ;  I  wasn't 
willing  to  go  over  alone,  dear.  I  have  waited  for  you. 
We  have  travelled  a  long,  long  way  together,  and  the 
road  has  been  rough  sometimes ;  sickness  and  death  have 
met  us  on  the  way  ;  but  you  have  been  true,  dear  —  true 
as  the  needle  to  the  pole,  and  kind  as  a  mother  could  be 
to  the  child  at  her  breast. 

'  We  have  borne  each  other's  sorrows, 
And  shared  each  other's  joys,'  — 


THE    AGED    CHRISTIAN'S    DEATH-BED.  149 

haven't  we,  dear  ?  Don't  weep  so  ;  it  will  break  my 
heart.  It  is  only  a  little  while  and  you  will  be  called ; 
Jesus  will  come  over  with  you.  Martha  will  bo  a  tender 
nurse,  dear ;  comfort  her  when  I  am  gone.  She  will 
miss  us  less  if  we  go  one  at  a  time.  By  and  by  we 
shall  all  get  home.  Glory  be  to  God  and  the  Lamb  !  " 

"  But,  mother,"  said  Martha,  "  what  shall  we  do  with- 
out you  ?  What  makes  you  think  you  are  going  ?  You 
were  as  feeble  as  this  last  spring.  0,  we  can't  spare 
you." 

"0,  yes,  you  can,  child:  'As  thy  day,  so  shall  thy 
strength  be.'  God  will  support  you  :  hasn't  he  always  ? 
Are  you  not  willing  I  should  enter  into  rest,  my  child  ? 
I  shall  have  an  abundant  entrance.  I  hear  my  Saviour 
calling,  and  I  long  to  go.  Remember  that  '  he  doeth  all 
things  well,'  and  bless  the  hand  that  leads  me  to  my 
Father's  house." 

The  voice  faltered  ;  she  fell  into  a  gentle,  quiet  sleep, 
never  speaking  again  on  earth.  She  lingered  several 
days,  knew  them,  and  smiled  faintly  when  they  talked  to 
her  of  Jesus  and  heaven.  She  motioned  Hester  to  sing, 
and  looked  serenely  happy  while  she  sang,  — 

"  '  What's  this  that  steals,  that  steals  upon  me  now? 

Is  it  death  ?  is  it  death  ? 
If  this  be  death,  I  soon  shall  be 
From  every  sin  and  sorrow  free ; 
I  shall  the  King  of  Glory  see ! 

All  is  well !  all  is  well ! '  " 

Grandpa  said  but  little.  He  sat  by  the  bed,  holding 
the  faded  hand  as  if  it  had  been  an  infant's,  kissing  the 
wrinkled  cheek  reverently.  Thus  they  waited  and 
watched,  cheering  each  other  by  speaking  of  the  better 
land, 


150  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

".0,  Hester,"  said  Martha,  leaning  on  her  broad 
shoulder,  "you  comfort  and  sustain  me  in  this  trying1 
hour.  I  would  not  hold  her  back,  but  I  dread  to  have 
her  go." 

"  You  will  be  willing  when  the  time  comes,"  said 
Hester.  "  But  we  must  restrain  our  grief  for  grandpa's 
sake,"  she  whispered.  "  Their  souls  are  so  knit  together 
that  when  one  is  loosed  the  other  will  feel  it  deeply.  I 
fear  for  him." 

0,  how  eagerly  he  watched  the  flickering  light ! 
placed  his  trembling  finger  on  the  feeble  pulse  !  lie 
groaned  a  deep,  inward  groan  when  the  light  went  out 
and  the  pulses  stopped. 

"Rejoice,"  said  Hester;  "she  is  with  the  angels! 
Rejoice  ;  she  has  entered  into  rest !  The  Lord  reigneth  ; 
he  doeth  all  things  well.  Let  us  pray." 

She  stepped  lightly,  she  walked  softly  with  God,  pray- 
ing that  the  Spirit  might  indite  her  petitions,  comfort 
and  heal  these  bleeding  hearts.  They  were  comforted 
and  sustained,  and  blessed  anew  the  Father  of  all  mer- 
cies for  giving  them  Hester  Strong. 


THE    NEW    HOME    AND    ITS    TRIALS.  151 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    NEW    HOME    AND    ITS    TRIALS.  —  MR.    WILEY'S 
FAMILY. 

"  THIS  is  a  much  more  desirable  home,  Winnie,  than 
the  one  you  have  left,"  said  Mr.  Giles.  "  I  hope  you 
will  try  to  deserve  it,  and  be  so  obedient  and  industrious 
that  I  shall  be  willing  to  let  you  stay.  It  isn't  every 
destitute  child  that  is  so  fortunate.  Don't  you  think 
this  is  a  nice  house  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  Were  you  ever 
in  one  like  it  before  ?  " 

Winnie  was  embarrassed ;  grandpa  Manlie's  old-fash- 
ioned house  was  much  more  desirable  to  her.  She  was 
longing  for  the  dear  home  left,  its  dusky  walls,  and 
the  dear  faces  around  the  capacious  hearth. 

"  I  think  this  is  a  pretty  house,"  she  said,  timidly  ; 
"  it  is  something  like  the  one  papa  built." 

Mr.  Giles  gave  a  low  whistle,  and  remarked  to  his 
wife,  — 

"  She's  got  the  Lovering  pride  ;  will  never  be  grateful, 
do  what  you  will  for  her." 

"  Gratitude  is  a  rare  virtue,"  said  Elevia,  quietly ;  it 
thrives  best  in  an  atmosphere  of  unselfish  love.  I  think 
my  dear  little  niece  has  proved  conclusively  that  she  has 
a  losing,  grateful  heart.  I  shouldn't  wish  to  have  her 
manifest  more  feeling,  than  she  did  when  leaving  Hes- 
ter." 


152  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  She  had  better  have  staid  with  her,  then,  in  that 
dingy  old  house.  I  dare  say  it  is  more  like  home  to  her 
than  this,"  was  the  cutting  reply.  Winnie  turned  red, 
then  pale,  as  she  thought,  — 

"  Then  lliey  don't  want  me,  either." 

Elevia  read  her  thoughts.  Calling  her  into  the  nursery, 
where  Unie  was  sleeping,  she  gave  her  a  pretty,  enter- 
taining book  to  read,  and  requested  her  to  sit  by  baby 
and  keep  her  asleep.  She  returned  to  the  room  where 
her  husband  was  sitting,  went  up  to  him,  and  spoke  his 
name  softly,  but  sadly. 

"  What  now  ?  "  was  the  ungracious  reply  ;  "  another 
scene?  I  am  sick  of  them." 

"  I  don't  wish  for  another  scene,"  was  the  reply ; 
"  the  one  on  hand  is  to  be  my  theme.  I  am  sorry  you 
should  wound  the  child's  feelings  so.  I  told  you  be- 
fore she  came,  that  I  should  not  let  her  come  to  be 
abused.  She  had  far  better  go  to  the  workhouse.  I 
told  you  I  would  try  to  get  along  with  her  assistance,  if 
you  would  treat  her  kindly.  Otherwise,  she  shall  not  stay 
and  you  will  be  under  the  necessity  of  hiring  help." 

"Whew  1  "  said  Mr.  Giles.  "That  is  rule  No.  4  — 
isn't  it  ?  First,  I  am  to  treat  you  just  the  same  at  home 
as  abroad,  alone  and  in  company.  A  capital  joke  !  Then 
I  am  to  give  you  money  to  keep  by  you,  without  asking 
you  to  account  for  it.  Good  !  Then  I  am  to  replenish 
the  family  larder  without  comment  —  that's  it,  I  believe. 
And  now  I  am  to  treat  a  beggar  like  a  princess.  Am  I 
correct,  Lev  ?" 

Mr.  Giles  whistled  "  Moll  Brooks,"  &c.  Elevia  stood 
there  waiting,  very  calmly,  to  all  appearance,  but  her 
heart  beat  painfully. 


THE    NEW    HO3IE    AND    ITS    TRIALS.  153 

"  Mason,"  she  said,  choking  down  her  emotion,  "  you 
treat  these  things  lightly.  I,  at  least,  am  serious  and  in 
earnest.  I  was  never  more  so  in  my  life.  I  cannot, 
and  I  will  not,  bear  these  insults.  I  shall  not  live  a  year 
in  this  way ;  and  on  my  own  account  I  do  not  wish  to." 

"  You  needn't  live  on  my  account,"  was  the  mocking 
reply.  "  Don't,  I  beg  of  you.  There  are  plenty  of 
handsome  girls  waiting  and  wishing  to  become  Mrs.  Giles 
second  ;  so  don't  put  yourself  out."  He  laughed  as 
only  such  persons  can  laugh. 

"  Defeated  again,"  sighed  Elevia.  "  0  God,  there  is 
nothing  left  for  me  but  misery  or  death.  But  that 
child's  life  shall  not  be  blasted  in  this  house.  I  might 
have  known  it  would  be  so.  Why  could  he  not  have 
told  mo  frankly  that  he  should  treat  her  like  a  bond- 
girl,  before  she  came  ?  I  told  him  I  should  receive  her 
as  a  beloved  child,  and  that  he  must  not  go  for  her  unless 
he  was  willing  to  do  the  same.  He  made  no  objections. 
How  foolish  I  am  to  expect  anything  better  of  him  !  " 

Winnie  laid  the  pretty  book  in  her  lap  unread.  She 
was  thinking.  Child  as  she  was,  what  she  had  seen  and 
heard  in  her  new  home  filled  her  with  sadness.  She  felt 
that  this  would  never,  never  seem  like  home.  She  felt 
sure  her  aunt  was  not  happy,  and  wondered  why  it  was. 
Her  house  was  very  nice,  and  all  the  things  in  it  were 
new  and  beautiful.  Her  mind  was  sorely  perplexed. 
She  did  not  think  it  strange  her  uncle  did  not  want  her ; 
no  one  did  ;  and  the  old  wish  to  die  and  go  to  mamma 
came  back  with  overpowering  force.  She  began  to  weep 
violently.  Baby  stirred ;  she  stifled  the  bitter  sobs 
nobly,  saying,  — 

"  0,  dear  !     I  am  always  doing  something.     There,  I 


154  HESTEH    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOKK. 

mustn't  cry  now  ;  it  will  wake  the  baby.  To-night,  when 
they  are  all  asleep,  I'll  cry.  No,  I  guess  I  will  tell  Jesus 
about  it ;  auntie  said  I  must.  0,  mother,  mother,"  she 
cried,  "  your  little  girl  is  sad." 

Thus  Winnie  rocked  the  cradle,  and  talked  with  her 
own  thoughts,  till  baby  awoke.  This  was  the  longest 
half  day  she  had  ever  seen. 

"  Three  hundred  and  sixty -four  and  a  half  more  of> 
them  !  "  she  mused,  clasping  her  small  hands  tightly. 
Mrs.  Giles  exerted  herself  very  much  to  banish  the  un- 
favorable impressions  of  the  afternoon  from  Winnie's 
mind,  and  partially  succeeded.  She  went  to  her  room 
with  her  when  she  retired. 

"  You  shall  go  to  see  aunt  Hester  and  the  children 
every  week,"  she  said,  "  and  carry  the  milk  over  to  Mr. 
Wiley's  every  pleasant  morning.  Envena  is  about  your 
age." 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Wiley  ?  "  inquired  Winnie. 

"  0,  he  married  your  uncle  Mason's  sister.  They  live 
in  the  large  white  house  over  there,"  pointing  in  the 
direction. 

"  Please,  what  dress  shall  I  put  on  in  the  morning, 
auntie  ?  " 

"  0,  your  red  one,  I  guess,  for  you  are  a  stranger  in 
this  neighborhood."  Winnie  was  pleased  with  the  novel- 
ty of  carrying  the  milk,  and  wondered  what  they  would 
say  to  her,  till  her  aunt  took  the  light,  kissed  her,  and 
said  good  night. 

Now,  she  was  left  up  stairs  alone  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life.  She  had  nearly  always  fallen  asleep  amid  the 
hum  of  voices,  or  while  listening  to  mother  or  aunt 
Hester  singing  to  the  children.  A  feeling  of  indescrib- 


THE    NEW    HOME    AND    ITS    TRIALS.  155 

able  loneliness,  amounting  to  fear,  crept  over  her.  She 
covered  her  face. 

"  I  didn't  pray,"  she  whispered,  "that  is  the  reason  I 
feel  so.  But  I  am  afraid  to  get  up  in  the  dark.  I  won- 
der if  God  won't  hear  me  if  I  pray  in  bed."  She  crawled 
away  down  under  the  clothes,  listening  for  she  knew  not 
what.  Eemembering  that  her  mother  prayed  when  she 
was  so  very  sick,  and  that  she  seemed  easier  afterwards, 
Winnie  resolved  to  pray.  She  tried  to  think  of  the  words 
aunt  Hester  used  in  the  morning,  but  could  not.  "  0 
God,  my  Father  in  heaven,"  was  all  she  could  say  for 
some  time.  This  she  repeated  over  and  over,  with  sobs 
and  tears.  "Dear  Jesus,  I  am  a  poor  little  girl  that 
nobody  wants,  because  there  are  so  many  of  us.  Do, 
Jesus,  let  me  go  to  mamma  ;  there  is  room  there.  0,  let 
me  come  to  you,  dear  Jesus  ;  let  me  come  to  you.  Help 
me  to  submit."  Thus  she  prayed  and  wept,  until,  re- 
lieved, she  fell  asleep. 

0,  ye  of  little  faith,  can  ye  not  believe  that  Jesus, 
the  loving,  pitying  Jesus,  sent  the  Comforter  to  that  lone- 
ly, suffering  one,  in  answer  to  that  feeble,  broken  prayer  ? 
Verity  so  it  was.  Winnie  arose,  with  a  calm,  peaceful 
feeling,  in  the  morning.  She  did  not  forget  to  thank  God 
for  all  his  goodness,  and  ask  him  to  give  her  a  new  heart. 

"  0,  I  know  now  what  my  Father  in  heaven  wants  of 
me,"  she  mused.  "  He  wants  me  to  comfort  aunt  Elevia, 
she  is  so  sad.  I  guess  her  husband  don't  love  her  much. 
She  looks  like  my  dear  mamma.  She  used  to  fold  me  in 
her  arms,  and  say,  '  You  are  mother's  comfort,  darling.' 
How  happy  that  used  to  make  me  !  Nothing  can  ever 
make  me  very  happy  again,  I  think  ;  but  aunt  Hester 
says  I  shall  be  happier  than  ever  before,  when  this  cloud 


156  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

i 

passes  over,  if  I  trust  in  Jesus,  and  live  to  make  others 
happy. 

"  Dear  Jesus,  I  want  to  love  you  more,  and  trust  you, 
and  be  like  you.  Won't  you  teach  me,  and  help  me  to 
do  right  ?  —  0,1  forgot  to  ask  God  to  bless  anybody  but 
myself."  She  knelt  again,  to  invoke  the  blessing  of  God 
upon  the  dear  ones  at  home,  not  forgetting  her  earthly 
parent,  and  then  hurried  down  to  see  what  she  could  do 
for  her  aunt. 

"  I  must  look  cheerful,"  she  thought.  "  Aunt  Hester 
says  that  is  one  way  to  do  good." 

Mrs.  Giles  met  her  with  a  kind  good  morning,  inquired 
how  she  had  rested,  &c. ;  but  Winnie  saw  at  a  glance  that 
she  was  sad  and  weary  ;  so  she  did  not  say,  "  What  can  I 
do  for  you  ?  "  but  looked  sharp  to  see  where  she  was 
most  needed.  Baby  was  sitting  in  the  cradle,  reaching 
out  its  arms  to  its  weary  mother,  and  ^moaning  piteously. 
Winnie  was  a  skilful  little  general  in  baby  tactics  ;  so  she 
took  advantage  of  her  position,  and  very  soon  baby  for- 
got its  aching  teeth,  and  was  having  a  nice  frolic. 

Mamma  forgot  her  weariness  as  she  listened  to  the 
jubilant  children.  The  breakfast  was  ready  in  season, 
and  Mr.  Giles  was  at  a  loss  to  find  fault  with  anything. 
Ilis  wife  began  to  take  courage. 

"  Elevia,  I  think  you  use  more  coffee  than  you  need  to. 
Now,  it  isn't  a  mite  better  for  being  too  strong.  I  have 
told  you  so  a  great  many  times.  I  do  wish  you  would 
pay  attention  to  what  I  say.  Coffee  costs  money."  He 
waited  for  a  reply.  Elevia  was  silent. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me  ?  "  he  inquired,  indig- 
nantly. 

"  What  was  your  question  ?  "  was  the  reply  ;  "  I  heard 
none." 


TIIE    NEW    HOME    AND    ITS    TEIALS.  157 

"  There  it  comes,  the  real  Levering  pride  and  stubborn- 
ness. I  say  the  coflee  is  too  strong1." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  you  say  that.  I  have  heard  you  say  it 
several  times  lately.  Day  before  yesterday  it  was  too 
weak.  About  half  the  time  it  is  too  weak,  and  the  other 
half  too  strong ;  and  yet  for  the  last  few  weeks  I  have 
been  particular  to  put  in  just  the  quantity  you  specified. 
Now,  if  you  will  tell  me  just  how  much  less  to  put  in,  I 
will  try  to  suit  you.  But  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I  will 
not  submit  to  so  much  unreasonable  fault-finding." 

Elevia  broke  down,  as  she  always  did ;  and  the  tears 
came  trickling  slowly  down  her  cheeks,  which  were  really 
very  pale  and  thin. 

"  0,  well,  you  needn't  cry ;  I  am  used  to  that,"  was 
the  insulting  reply.  "  Your  tears  move  me  about  as 
much  as  your  threats.  You  '  will  not  submit ; '  '  will 
not '  —  that  is  getting  to  be  a  common  expression  with, 
you.  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  will  do  about  it. 
If  a  man  can't  have  his  way  in  his  own  house,  where 
upon  earth  can  he  ?  If  a  man  can't  be  master  in  his  own 
family,  he  isn't  a  man."  • 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Giles.  I  never  objected  to 
your  being  master  here."  She  spoke  calmly,  looking 
him  steadily  in  the  face.  "  I  claim  to  be  the  mistress  in 
this  house  ;  if  I  am  not,  what  am  I  ?  You  didn't  buy 
me  of  my  father  —  did  you  ?  " 

"No;  but  I  wish  I  had,"  was  the  cool  reply.  "I 
would  break  that  stubborn  will,  or  worse  than  that,"  with 
a  look  so  full  of  bitter  scorn  and  hate,  that  Winnie  be- 
came alarmed.  Thus  the  meal  ended,  and  Mr.  Giles  went 
to  his  daily  labor,  much  to  her  relief.  She  pitied  her 
aunt  more  than  ever,  and  sought  for  opportunities  to  cheer 


158  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

and  help  her  ;  wishing1  all  the  time  that  she  could  tell  her 
of  Jesus,  and  the  way  to  be  happy. 

"  Now  you  can  go  and  carry  the  milk  to  Mr.  Wiley's," 
said  her  aunt,  "  and  invite  Envena  to  come  over  this 
afternoon,  and  go  out  a  little  while  with  you  to  search 
for  May-flowers.  Should  you  like  to  ?  " 

"  Yes,  auntie,  very  much  ;  but  you  arc  almost  sick. 
I  should  rather  stay  and  play  with  Unic,  and  let  you  rest." 
Elevia  was  so  unused  to  kindness  or  consideration  recent- 
ly, that  this  thoughtful  ness  affected  her.  She  stooped 
and  kissed  the  upturned  mouth,  saying,  — 

"  You  are  a  darling  child ;  auntie  loves  you  very  much." 

"  That  sounds  like  my  mamma,"  said  Winnie,  smiling 
through  the  tears  which  just  then  sprang  unbidden  to 
her  eyes.  "  I  am  glad  you  love  me,  and  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  of  it  a  good  many  times,  because  I  forget ;  and  I 
am  so  naughty,  I  think  nobody  can  love  me  much.  Aunt 
Hester  says  everybody  loves  me,  and  I  think  they  do  ; 
but  I  shouldn't  think  they  could.  But  there  is  somebody 
else  I  want  you  to  love,  auntie,"  she  said,  timidly. 

"»Who  is  it,  dear  ?  Aunt  Hester  and  the  children  ? 
I  love  them  ever  so  much." 

"  No,  auntie  ;  I  want  you  to  love  our  Father  in  heaven, 
and  Jesus.  Mother  used  to  call  him  the  sinner's  Friend. 
She  loved  him,  and  I  am  trying  to  love  him  ;  and  to-day 
I  think  he  loves  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  just  wanted  him  to 
take  my  hand  and  lead  me  ;  and  when  I  cry,  I  would 
love  to  have  him  wipe  the  tears  awry,  as  mamma  did ; 
and  when  I  am  sick,  I  want  to  lay  my  head  on  his  bosom 
and  rest.  God  don't  seem  so  far  off  as  ho  did.  0,  auntie, 
do  you  think  I  have  really  found  him  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  dear  ;  I  should  think  so.  -  How  long  have 
you  felt  in  that  way  ?  " 


MR.    WILEY'S    FAMILY.  159 

"  0,  only  tins  morning.  Last  night  I  felt  so  bad  I 
wanted  to  die ;  but  I  was  afraid  of  God,  and  so  I  prayed 
as  fast  as  I  could,  and  by  and  by  I  felt  better,  and  began 
to  say  mamma's  hymn,  — 

'  Jesus,  Lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly.' 

It  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  did  open  his  arms  wide,  and  I 
crept  in,  and  didn't  feel  alone.  And  then  I  went  to  sleep, 
and  never  waked  up  till  morning.  And  this  morning  I 
feel  so  different  I  don't  want  to  go  to  mamma,  but  stay 
to  comfort  you.  Mamma  is  just  as  happy  as  she  can 
be  without  us  —  isn't  she,  auutio  ?  " 

Elevia  hardly  knew  what  to  say. 

"  0  that  I,  too,  could  find  Jesus  !  "  she  thought.  "  I 
need  him.  Perhaps  this  darling  child  has  come  to  lead 
me  to  him." 

"Yes,  dear,"  she  replied,  "  I  think  your  mother  is 
supremely  happy,  and  I  believe  yon  have  become  a  Chris- 
tian, one  of  Christ's  little  ones.  I  hope  it  is  so ;  and 
now  you  shall  be  my  teacher." 

"0,  not  your  teacher,  auntie }  the  LToly  Spirit  must 
be  your  Teacher  ;  mother  used  to  say  so,  and  auntie 
Hester  says  so.  Let  me  be  your  comforter  ;  that  is  what 
mother  called  me."  Winnie  thought,  as  she  tripped 
lightly  along, — 

"  'Tis  beautiful  out  here.  I  never  was  in  such  a  lovely 
place  before.  The  willows  are  so  pretty,  shaking  their 
leaves  iu  the  sun  !  How  fresh  the  grass  is  !  it  looks  as 
if  God  had  kissed  it  in  the  night.  I  guess  the  birdies 
love  him  better  than  they  did,  they  sing  so  sweetly.  I 


160  HESTER   STRONG'S   LIFE   WORK. 

wonder  if  I  can  sing  any  better  than  I  could  before.  I'll 
sing  aunt  Hester's  hymn  :  — 

'Rejoice!  rejoice!  the  promised  day  is  coming; 
Eejoice  !  rejoice !  the  wilderness  shall  bloom,'  " 

sang  the  youthful  disciple,  with  great  satisfaction,  little 
thinking  that  the  change,  the  beautiful,  sublime  change, 
was  iu  her  own  soul,  wrought  there  by  the  transforming 
grace  of  God. 

"  Aunt  Elevia  let  me  bring  the  milk  this  morning," 
said  Winnie,  when  Mr.  Wiley  had  opened  the  door. 

"Well,  come  in,"  was  the  reply.  "  Envena  has  been 
wanting  to  come  over  and  see  you.  "  Here,  Venie,  here 
is  the  little  girl  you  are  so  curious  to  see.  She  looks 
like  any  other  child  —  don't  she  ?  "  Envena  received  her 
very  cordially,  smiled,  and  said  many  pleasant  things. 
She  praised  her  hair,  wished  hers  was  as  pretty  ;  praised 
her  dress,  and  wished  she  could  have  one  like  it.  Win- 
nie was  delighted  with  her  new  friend.  She  longed  to 
tell  her  of  Jesus,  but  dared  not.  She  invited  her  to  come 
over  and  play  with  her  and  the  baby,  after  dinner. 

"I  should  like  to  come,"  said  Envena,  as  she  walked 
a  little  piece  with  Winnie ;  "  but  I  shouldn't  think  my 
aunt  Elevia  would  keep  you  cooped  up  in  the  house  this 
pleasant  day.  I  run  out  of  doors  all  the  time  ;  it  is  more 
healthy.1'  . 

"  0,  she  wants  me  to  go  out ;  but  she  is  almost  sick, 
and  I'd  rather  stay  in  and  tend  the  baby." 

"  She  isn't  very  sick,"  said  Envena,  in  a  soft,  loving 
tone;  '' I  wouldn't  wait  upon  her,  if  I  were  you;  but 
perhaps  you  are  used  to  working  hard,  and  don't  care  to 
play.  Did  your  father  buy  that  dress  for  you  ?  My 


MR.    WILEY'S    FAMILY.  161 

father  is  able,  but  mother  says  he  is  stingy.  0,  now  I've 
hurt  your  feelings.  I'm  sorry ;  forgive  me  —  wont  you  ?  I 
am  real  glad  you  have  come  to  live  here ;  we  can  go  to 
school  together,  and  have  nice  times." 

Winnie  brightened  up  ;  she  didn't  like  some  things  her 
new  friend  had  said ;  but  she  was  so  pleasant,  so  gentle 
and  affectionate,  that  she  was,  on  the  whole,  quite  sure 
she  was  a  good  little  girl,  and  didn't  mean  any  harm. 
11 


162  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOUK. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD'S  WATCHFULNESS.  —  THE  DISCLOSURE. 
—  THE  BURIAL. 

WINNIE  was  beginning  to  feel  quite  at  home  in  her 
uncle's  house.  She  had  something  to  do ;  she  was 
needed.  Mrs.  Giles  was  becoming  so  feeble  that  her 
time  was  all  occupied  in  useful,  loving  labor.  She  saw 
Envena  daily ;  was  fascinated  with  her,  she  was  so 
thoughtful,  so  tender,  and  loving  ;  but  somehow  there 
was  a  little  tinge  of  unhappiness  left  in  her  mind  after 
every  interview  —  something  of  regret  or  mortification  — 
—  something  which  made  her  feel  that  her  lot  was  hard, 
that  her  aunt  was  just  the  least  bit  to  be  blamed  for 
something,  that  the  baby  was  troublesome,  &c.  And  so 
the  child-Christian  had  to  flee  to  Christ  often,  and  on  her 
bended  knees,  with  clasped  hands,  beseech  him  to  give 
her  a  submissive  heart.  She  remembered  aunt  Hester's 
motto  —  "Submission  to  God  is  a  sure  and  safe  pass- 
port to  peace  tfnd  happiness."  And  the  good  Shepherd, 
true  to  his  promise,  always  gave  her  an  answer  of  peace, 
and  extracted  the  little  poison  arrows  which  had  been 
so  naturally  and  skilfully  sent  into  her  sensitive  soul  by 
one  perfectly  qualified  by  nature  and  education  to  de- 
ceive and  wound  without  disgusting  or  alienating  the 
victim. 


THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD'S  WATCHFULNESS.        163 

Elevia  saw  daily  new  evidence  that  Winnie  was  in- 
deed a  Christian.  She  herself  felt  an  indescribable 
yearning  after  something  to  lean  upon  —  some  place  to 
rest  —  a  refuge  from  the  storms  of  life.  Both  mind  and 
body  were  weak ;  she  could  not  grasp  the  strong,  safe 
anchor  of  hope  which  was  just  in  sight.  She  was  faint 
and  weary  with  the  conflict  in  her  own  soul,  and  the 
unjust  treatment  of  her  husband. 

The  week  had  passed,  yet  Winnie  had  not  visited  or 
heard  from  her  old  home.  She  was  longing  to  go  and 
tell  them  what  Christ  had  done  for  her ;  but  her  aunt 
seemed  so  unwell  and  sad,  that  she  was  not  willing  to 
leave  her. 

Just  then  grandpa  Levering  drove  up  to  the  door. 
She  was  delighted,  for  "  now,"  she  thought,  "  I  shall 
hear  all  about  them,  and  he  will  see  how  sick  and  un- 
happy auntie  is,  and  he  will  do  something  for  her. 

"  0,  grandpa,"  she  exclaimed,  rushing  out  to  meet 
him,  "  I  am  so  glad  you've  come !  Auntie  is  sick,  and  I 
am  so  different !  I  want  to  tell  you." 

"  Why,"  said  he,  in  surprise,  "  is  Elevia  sick  ?  I  saw 
Mason  yesterday  ;  he  did  not  speak  of  it.  But  what  has 
come  over  my  little  girl  ?"  taking  her  hand  and  starting 
for  the  house. 

"  0,  I  am  a  great  deal  happier  than  I  was.  I  hope 
I  have  learned  to  submit.  God  is  very  near,  and  I  love 
him.  I  don't  want  to  go  to  mamma.  Jesus  is  my 
Saviour,  and  I  want  to  serve  him  here." 

Tears  came  into  grandpa's  eyes  as  he  patted  the  up- 
turned cheek  and  said,  — 

"  I  thank  God  that  my  little  Winnie  has  chosen  that 
better  part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  from  her." 


164  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

He  was  grieved  to  see  Elevia  looking  BO  pale  and  thin, 
so  weary  and  hopeless. 

"  Elevia,  child,  come  here  and  sit  on  father's  knee  ; 
perhaps  it  will  do  us  both  good.  How  long  have  you 
been  so  weak,  dear  ?  Does  Mason  know  how  ill  you  are  ? 
I  inquired  yesterday  ;  he  said  you  were  well." 

"0,  father,  father,"  sobbed  Elevia,  overcome  by  those 
few  tender  words,  "  take  me  home  with  you.  0,  take 
me  somewhere  ;  I  cannot  breathe  here.  He  hates  me  ; 
he  has  told  me  so,  many,  many  times." 

Mr.  Levering  folded  his  strong  arms  around  the  shrink- 
ing wife,  and  said,  — 

"  If  that  is  true,  my  daughter,  you  shall  go.  Thank 
God,  I  have  a  home  for  you.  But  you  are  sick  and  sensi- 
tive—  nervous,  perhaps.  Poor  child,  you  need  your 
mother.  What  a  loss  she  was  to  us  all !  There,  lie  on 
father's  breast ;  I  know  it  isn't  as  soft  as  hers,  but  it  is 
true,  Levie." 

She  wept  on.  Now  that  the  gates  were  open,  it  was 
hard  to  close  them. 

"  Impossible,"  mused  grandpa,  aloud,  "  impossible. 
How  pleasant  he  seemed  yesterday  !  and  yet  I  have  felt 
at  times  that  all  was  not  quite  right.  Winnie,  don't  you 
think  uncle  Mason  loves  my  little  Levic  here,  and  means 
to  be  kind  to  her  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  does  mean,  grandpa,"  was  the 
simple,  honest  reply  ;  "  but  he  don't  act  as  if  he  loved 
her.  He  scolds  awfully  when  he  is  alone  with  her,  and 
doesn't  behave  a  bit  good.  He  pushed  her  this  morning 
because  she  couldn't  fix  his  collar  right." 

Mr.  Lovering  was  shocked  and  confounded  by  tho 
child's  reply.  He  could  not  speak  for  several  moments. 
He  then  said,  — 


THE    DISCLOSURE.  165 

"  What  did  your  aunt  say,  Winnie  ?  " 

"  0,  she  cried,  and  went  up  stairs.  Uncle  Mason  was 
real  pleasant  to  me  when  she  was  gone ;  said  I  was 
beautiful,  and  could  do  things  better  than  my  aunt. 
He  tried  to  give  me  some  raisins,  but  I  couldn't  take 
them,  I  felt  so  ;  and  then  he  went  out." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  I  must  see  and 
converse  with  him.  But  I  came  to  carry  you  over  to 
mother  Manlie's  funeral." 

"  Why,  is  she  dead  ?  "  asked  Elevia  and  Winnie  in  a 
breath. 

"  Yes  ;  didn't  Mason  tell  you  ?  I  asked  him  to  bring 
you,  but  he  said  his  engagements  were  such  that  he 
could  not ;  so  I  concluded  to  come  myself." 

"  lie  didn't  mention  it,"  said  Elevia,  forgetting  to 
weep.  "  Poor  grandfather  and  aunt  Martha,  how  they 
will  miss  her  !  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  Hester  is  there,  like  a 
tower  of  strength  for  them  to  lean  on  ;  and  they  have  an 
Almighty  Friend,  who  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother,  you 
know.  0,  my  daughter,  why  will  you  not  make  him 
your  Friend  also  ?  You  need  religion  ;  why  will  you  not 
come  to  Christ  ?  He  will  give  you  rest  and  peace." 

"  I  am  trying,  father  ;  but  I  am  so  unworthy  !  I  was 
so  thoughtless  about  these  things  when  I  was  happy  at 
home ;  and  when  I  was  married,  then  I  thought  I  was 
happy  enough  without  religion.  I  worshipped  Mason. 
But  I  must  see  grandma  again  before  they  bury  her. 
How  often  she  has  tried  to  lead  me  to  Christ !  0,  I  must 
see  her." 

"  Do  you  feel  strong  enough  to  go,  dear  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Loverinjc. 


166  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  am.  I  must  go  ;  I  want  to  see  Hes- 
ter and  all  of  them  so  much." 

"  Well,  my  daughter,  I  think  you  had  better  go.  I 
will  find  Mason  and  talk  with  him  while  you  are  getting 
ready." 

"  0,  father,  if  he  knows  I  have  told  you  anything, 
how  shall  I  stay  here  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  startled  look. 

"  What,  Elevia,  afraid  of  your  husband  !  afraid  of 
him  !  Has  it  come  to  this  ?  Rest  easy,  my  dear  child.  I 
will  wait,  and  be  very  wise." 

Elevia  was  reassured.  Winnie  was  very  quiet  and 
helpful.  She  anticipated  all  her  aunt's  wishes,  and  did 
all  in  her  power  to  help  her. 

"You  are  such  a  comfort,  Winnie!"  she  said;  "so 
different  from  what  I  was  at  your  age !  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  do  without  you." 

Winnie  smiled  through  her  tears,  feeling  amply  paid 
for  her  efforts. 

"  I  am  so  glad  I  can  help  you  !  "  she  said ;  "it  makes 
me  happy.  I  thought  when  mamma  died  I  should  never 
be  a  comfort  to  anybody  again.  God  is  very  good,  and 
grandma  Manlie  has  gone  to  live  with  him,  and  before 
this  she  has  found  my  sweet  mamma.  0,  they  are  so 
joyful  up  there  !  I  can  almost  hear  them  sing.  Now 
mamma  will  hear  from  us.  I  wish,  0,  I  wish  she  could 
know  I  have  found  the  way." 

"  She  will  know  it,  dear  ;  the  angels  rejoice  when  sin- 
ners repent ;  she  will  know  it." 

Mr.  Lovering  tried  to  banish  all  coldness  from  his 
manner  when  he  met  his  son-in-law>  and  treat  him  with 
cordiality. 

"  I  came  over  to  take  your  family  to  the  funeral,"  said 


THE    DISCLOSURE.  167 

ho.  "  I  wish  you  could  go.  You  forgot  to  mention  it 
to  Elcvia." 

"  Yes,  I  declare  it  slipped  my  mind.  Is  Levie  going-  ? 
She  don't  seem  well  to-day.  I  am  afraid  the  excitement 
will  be  too  much  for  her." 

"  0,  I  guess  it  won't  hurt  her,"  said  Mr.  Love-ring, 
clinching  the  right  hand  into  his  hair.  "  No,  I  guess  it 
won't  hurt  her  to  go.  She  looks  feeble  —  very.  I  fear 
she  is  going  the  way  of  Harmony  and  her  mother.  Have 
you  consulted  a  physician  ?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't ;  she  isn't  willing  to  do  anything  for 
herself.  She  wouldn't  take  medicine  if  she  had  it." 

"  I  think  she  needs  rest  more  than  anything,"  said 
Mr.  Lovering.  "  The  babe  is  fretful.  If  you  could 
bring  her,  and  the  baby,  and  Winnie,  over  to  my  house 
for  a  few  weeks,  it  would  be  a  good  thing.  I'm  thinking 
you'll  have  to  hire  a  nurse  soon  if  you  don't." 

"  0,  I  have  no  idea  she  would  be  willing  to  go,"  wa,s 
the  reply;  "and  as  to  hiring  help,  she  preferred  the 
little  girl  Winnie.  I  couldn't  think  of  having  two." 

"  0,  ah,"  said  Mr.  Lovering,  almost  losing  command 
of  himself ;  "  0,  I  guess  she  would  come  if  you  wished 
it.  But  Winnie  is  to  go  to  school,  you  remember ;  that 
was  the  condition  —  wasn't  it  ?  You  told  me  your  prop- 
erty amounted  to  fifteen  thousand,  I  believe,  when  you 
asked  for  my  daughter.  I  should  think  that  would  en- 
able you  to  keep  help  when  your  wife  is  sick,"  he  said, 
in  a  jocose  way.  "But  I  must  go;  the  funeral  is  at 
t\vo.  Come  over  ;  I  have  an  excellent  housekeeper  now, 
and  have  been  making  some  alterations  in  my  house. 
Judith  is  rather  troublesome,  and  I  have  a  very  summary 
\v;iy  of  getting  along  with  such  folks  without  quarrelling. 


168  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

You  see,  when  folks  can't  live  without  a  perpetual  quar- 
rel, they  had  better  be  separated — don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  that  is  the  best  way,"  stam- 
mered Mr.  Giles. 

"  Well,  I  have  closed  all  doors  between  the  two  fami- 
lies. 0,  if  I  had  known  how  it  was  I  should  have  saved 
my  wife  some  vexatious  things.  I  mean  to  treat  Judith 
well ;  she  has  her  good  qualities,  but  she  is  stingy  and 
selfish.  Bring  Levie  over  soon.  Good  by." 

There  was  a  great  gathering  at  the  funeral  ;  children 
and  grandchildren,  friends  and  neighbors,  carne  to  sym- 
pathize with  the  mourners,  and  pay  a  last  tribute  of 
respect  to  Mrs.  Manlie,  who  was  loved  and  esteemed  for 
her  many  virtues.  Hester,  by  common  consent,  led  the 
aged  mourner  to  the  coffin,  and  supported  his  tottering 
steps,  in  company  with  the  weeping  Martha,  to  the  vil- 
lage graveyard,  which  was  close  at  hand. 

"  Lean  hard  as  you  please,  father,"  she  whispered,  as 
they  neared  the  spot,  and  her  eye  fell  upon  a  marble 
slab  with  this  inscription  :  — 

To  THE  MEMORY  OP 
HORACE     3L, .     Mi  .A.  INT  r,  I  E , 

WHO  DIED  IN  1829,  AGED  28. 

As  she  stood  there  waiting,  she  glanced  back  for  a 
moment,  sighed  deeply,  and  then  looked  steadily  into  the 
future.  Faith  arose  triumphant.  She  felt  like  joining  in 
the  exultant  song  of  triumph  with  the  redeemed  beyond 
the  veil.  The  harsh  rattling  of  the  falling  earth  upon  the 
coffin  disturbed  the  glorious  vision.  The  aged  pilgrim 
leaned  heavily  upon  her  arm.  She  felt  the  bowed  form 
shrink  and  tremble  at  every  grating  sound. 


THE    BURIAL.  169 

"  Shall  we  go  ?  "  she  whispered.  "  They  are  not 
here  —  '  dust  to  dust '  —  but  they  are  among  the  angels, 
and  near  the  throne.  0,  they  cannot  come  to  us  ;  thank 
God,  we  can  go  to  them.  What  a  joyful  meeting  !  " 

"  Hester,"  said  grandpa  Manlie,  after  the  funeral, 
"  Horace  could  not  have  comforted  me,  supported  my 
feeble  steps,  and  cared  for  me,  more  tenderly  than  you 
have.  They  should  have  named  you  '  Comfort.'  Let  us 
have  but  one  table,  one  home,  after  this.  I  need  you, 
and  Martha  needs  you." 

"  It  is  a  great  happiness  to  me,"  said  Hester,  "to  be 
able  to  fill  Horace's  place  to  you  in  a  small  degree.  But 
won't  the  children  trouble  you  ?  " 

"  No  ;  they  will  be  a  blessing.  I  will  keep  our  room 
—  Mary's  and  mine — just  the  same.  We  will  have  a 
common  sitting-room  —  all  things  common  but  that  room. 
When  I  feel  like  seeing  any  one  in  there,  I  will  say  so." 

Martha  joined  in  his  request,  and  Hester  gave  a  cheer- 
ful consent. 

"  We  shan't  quarrel,"  said  Martha,  "  unless  Hester 
claims  more  than  her  share  of  the  work." 

"  Well,"  said  Hester,  "  you  must  let  me  do  just  all  I 
please.  I  am  strong,  both  by  name  and  nature.  But  I 
see  another  difficulty — Martha  will  be  claiming  a  full 
share  of  the  care  of  the  children,  and  their  affections,  too." 

"  The  baby  is  to  be  my  especial  charge,"  said  grandpa. 
"  I  want  to  call  her  '  Mary.' ' 

"  Mary  Fostina  isn't  a  bad  name,"  said  Hester.  "  I 
like  it.  We  will  call  her  that." 

It  was  affecting  to  witness  his  watchful  tenderness  of 
the  little  one.  Her  cradle  was  admitted  to  the  room  of 
Bacred  memories.  There  she  took  her  daily  naps  undis- 


170  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

turbed  by  noise,  and  not  a  fly  or  mosquito  dared  approach 
the  little  sleeper. 

"  My  Mary  !  "  he  spoke  it  often,  and  lingered  loving- 
ly over  the  sound.  "  My  Mary  ! ';  how  lie  loved  to 
speak  it  !  It  became  a  household  word.  Winnie  and 
Wallace  liked  the  change  ;  said  it  looked  better  spelled  on 
paper  —  "  Mary  P.  Leutcll." 

"  Write  a  Mary  to  my  name,  too,"  said  Elida  ;  "  then 
you  will  has  two  'ittle  sweet  springs,"  alluding  to  what 
she  had  called  the  May-flowers.  "  I  spects  God  isn't 
very  dood  "  she  said,  sadly,  one  day. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?"  said  Hester. 

"  'Cause  he  died  poor  grandpa's  mother,  and  let  the 
naughty  man  plant  her  in  the  ground.  I  saw  um  ;  it  is 
all  dark  down  there.  Will  she  come  up  when  it  is  warm, 
auntie  ?  " 

Hester  explained  the  solemn  mystery  as  well  as  she 
could,  and  told  her  the  story  of  the  infant  Jesus,  which 
called  forth  many  loving  expressions  from  the  affection- 
ate, impulsive  child. 

"  But  Fs  happy  'nuff  now,  auntie.  You  tell  God,  so 
he  won't  die  me,  arid  send  me  up  to  heaven.  I's  your 
'ittle  Sunshine  ;  so  you  couldn't  spare  me  a  bit  —  could 
you,  auntie  ?  "  caressing  her. 

"  I  love  to  keep  you,  darling,"  said  Hester,  kissing 
the  soft,  fair  cheek. 

Wallace  took  his  departure  for  uncle  Prank's  in  high 
glee. 

"  It  will  be  splendid  to  drive  the  cows  and  ride  the 
horse  to  plough,  and  rake  hay,  over  to  uncle  Frank's  — 
won't  it,  auntie  ?  I  mean  to  study  hard  when  I  go  to 
school,  so  as  to  get  into  the  same  class  with  George  next 
winter." 


THE    BURIAL.  1U 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  a  diligent  scholar,  and  a  good 
boy,  and  enjoy  yourself,"  said  Hester.  "  Perhaps  uncle 
Edward  will  want  you  to  study  medicine  with  him  when 
you  are  old  enough.  Your  uncle  Horace,  you  remember, 
was  a  doctor.  I  am  pleased  with  your  spending  a  year 
at  uncle  Frank's.  Your  aunt  Emma  is  a  dear,  kind 
woman,  and  will  treat  you  as  she  does  her  own  children. 
0,  Wallace,  try  to  please  them  all,  and  do  not  forget 
that  '  thou,  God,  seest  me.'  " 


172  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

MORGAN  LENTELL,  OR  THE  BROKEN  WEB. — THE  ACCIDENT. 

IT  is  only  seven  or  eight  miles  from  Mr.  Manlie's  to 
Mrs.  Mehitable  Lentell's  ;  just  a  pleasant  ride  :  let  us  go. 
She  is  weaving  most  heroically,  and  talking  to  herself. 
Listen. 

"  0,  hum  I  I  wish  I  knew  how  about  that  '  herearter ' 
that  the  priest  preached  about  last  Sunday.  When  Nabby 
gits  me  there  agin,  she'll  know  it ;  that's  all.  It's  proper 
warm  to-day;  "  wiping  the  perspiration  from  the  wrinkled 
brow.  "  But  if  that  sermon  is  true,  I  hain't  seen  the 
wust  on't  yet.  Hum,  hum  !  I  wish  I  was  as  innocent 
as  I  was  when  I  stole  that  letter  from  the  office,  an'  laid 
awake  all  night  to  cut  an'  contrive  how  to  deceive  her. 
'Pears  to  me  the  Evil  One  helped  me.  0,  well  !  I've 
had  the  wust  eend  o'  the  bargain.  Wat's  the  use  to 
bother  ?  It's  done,"  —  bringing  her  foot  down  forcibly, 
—  "  and  can't  be  undone  :  an' I've  suffered  for  it.  I  shall 
git  along  well  enough,  I  guess.  I  wish  the  parson  —  " 

"  What  are  you  grumbling  about,  old  woman  ?  "  mut- 
tered Morgan,  as  he  staggered  into  the  room.  "  Can't  I 
help  you  weave  ?  Harmony  couldn't,  you  know  ;  "  and 
he  plunged  his  still  brawny  arm  through  the  slender 
threads,  leaving  a  discouraging  hole. 

"  There  !  "  he  growled,  "  that  is  what  you  did  to  tho 
beautiful  web  of  my  life  ;  only  worse,  a  —  sight  worse. 


MOKGAN    LENTELL,    OK    THE    BROKEN    WEB.          173 

I  tell  you,  I've  seen  her  to-day  ;  she  sent  you  this  ;  "  rais- 
ing his  hand  to  strike  a  blow.  "  0,  no,"  he  stammered, 
"  that  wouldn't  be  like  her;  "  drawing  the  hand  back  ; 
"  no,  it  is  I  that  give  you  this  ;  "  striking  her  a  blow  on 
the  face.  "  That  is  to  pay  you  for  the  blows  I  got  when 
a  boy.  Ah,  well  !  I  never  meant  to  strike  a  woman  ;  " 
turning  away. 

"  And  she  your  mother,"  sighed  Mrs.  Mehitable. 
"  Morgan,  I  shall  have  you  taken  care  on,  if  you  ever 
strike  me  agin." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  turning  and  looking  her  full  in  the 
face,  "isn't  that  what  you  pledged  yourself  to  do,  if  I 
would  stop  the  lawsuit  ?  Ha,  ha  !  mother  !  A  precious 
mother  you  proved  yourself.  Didn't  you  send  me  to 
jail  ?  and  murder  the  best  and  loveliest  woman  I  ever 
saw  ?  My  God  !  my  God  !  Drake  and  you,  and  Nab 
and  the  devil,  conspired  against  me,"  he  said,  in  a  frenzy 
of  passion.  "  The  hottest  place  in  —  is  too  good  for  any 
of  you ;  or  me  either,"  he  groaned,  shrinking  away  to 
his  room. 

Such  scenes  as  this  were  not  uncommon  in  the  great 
house  on  the  hill.  And  yet,  Morgan,  true  to  former 
habits,  still  performed  a  great  deal  of  labor.  But  at 
times  a  sort  of  insanity  took  possession  of  him  ;  then 
he  was  a  perfect  terror  to  them  all.  He  would  not  ven- 
ture to  the  small  house  near  the  swamp,  feeling  sure  it 
was  haunted.  They  are  reaping  as  they  have  sown. 
But  we  will  leave  them  for  the  present,  and  call  at  uncle 
Frank  Lovering's.  Things  have  changed,  you  will  see, 
since  Christmas. 

Are  you  surprised  to  find  Patty  Stearns  there  yet  ?  I 
will  tell  you  how  it  happened.  She  found  it  impossible 


174  HESTER    STEOXG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

to  get  any  one  near  by  to  take  her.  Some  made  one 
excuse,  some  another.  Some  told  her  plainly  why  they 
would  not  take  her  ;  and  finally  Hester  Strong,  while  there 
spending  the  day,  told  her  where  her  life  had  been  a  fail- 
ure, and  why  she  was  not  loved.  She  was  quite  indig- 
nant at  first. 

"  I  think,"  said  Hester,  "  that  your  circumstances  early 
in  life  had  something  to  do  with  making  you  sad  ;  I  may 
say,  soured  your  disposition.  And  then,  as  you  grew 
older,  and  your  sick,  irritable  parents  died,  and  you  com- 
menced teaching  school,  you  made  the  mistake  of  think- 
ing true  dignity  was  a  reserved,  distant  statcliness ;  re- 
ligion a  sanctimonious  austerity  ;  that  your  office  entitled 
you  to  great  respect  and  consideration.  You  neglected 
to  cultivate  the  affections,  and  strive,  by  kindness  and 
conciliation,  to  win  the  esteem  and  confidence  of  those 
you  met,  but  laid  claim  to  that  which  cannot  be  bought 
or  sold,  except  by  paying  in  the  same  coin.  '  Love  begets 
love,'  it  is  said.  Love  is  the  all-conquering  power,  which 
shall  finally  triumph  over  sin.  God  is  love.  You  have 
seemed  to  forget  that,  and  dwell  upon  his  justice  and 
severity,  losing  sight  of  his  loving-kindness  and  tender 
mercy.  Others  make  the  fatal  mistake  of  trusting  to  his 
merciful  attributes,  leaving  justice  and  judgment  out  of 
the  question." 

Hester  said  all  this,  and  very  much  more,  in  a  kind, 
sympathizing  way,  which  was  irresistible.  A  tear  glis- 
tened in  Miss  Stearns'  eye,  as  she  replied,  — 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Miss  Strong.  I  have  thought 
a  sight  about  what  you  said,  last  Christmas,  of  the  charac- 
ter and  life  of  Christ.  I  think  I  have  failed  there.  I 
remember  my  parents  always  looked  on  the  dark  side  of 


THE    ACCIDENT.  175 

ivcrything  ;  and  they  had  an  uncommon  sight  of  trouble. 
1  thought  ivcrything  they  said  or  did  was  right.  But  we 
arc  poor  creatures,  all  of  us ;  they  might  have  been 
wrong  in  that.  I  niver  remember  seeing  them  laugh  in 
my  life.  They  said  there  was  no  mention  of  Christ's  iver 
laughing  ;  he  wept  often,  fasted  and  prayed  in  the  mid- 
night air,  and  on  the  mountains." 

"Yes,"  said  Hester,  "I  know  that  is  true.  But  it 
was  not  for  himself  he  wept,  fasted,  and  prayed.  The 
burden  of  our  guilt  was  laid  upon  him  ;  by  his  stripes  wo 
arc  healed.  His  was  not  a  selfish  sorrow  ;  and  the  wise 
man  says,  '  There  is  a  time  to  laugh  '  —  a  time  for  every. 
thing.  I  think  we  dishonor  God  by  looking  on  the  dark 
side  altogether.  We  must  accept  our  blessings  thank- 
fully, and  make  the  best  of  our  misfortunes  and  trials  ; 
for  if  we  are  the  children  of  God,  all  things  shall  work 
together  for  our  good." 

This  plain,  Christian  talk  had  a  decided  effect  upon 
Miss  Patty,  and  prepared  her,  in  a  measure,  for  a  new 
affliction.  George  was  appalled,  one  day  soon  after  this, 
to  hear  his  mother  call  to  his  father,  — 

"  0,  dear  !  what  shall  we  do  ?  Miss  Stearns  has  fallen, 
and  broken  her  other  limb,  I  fear.  She  can't  stir." 
Several  men  came  and  assisted  in  getting  her  up,  for  she 
was  very  large  and  heavy.  Dr.  Edward  Lovering  was 
soon  there,  and,  much  to  the  consternation  of  the  family, 
!  -d  that  her  hip  was  broken  just  below  the  joint. 
He  remarked  to  Mrs.  Lovering,  as  he  left,  — 

"  I  think  the  old  lady  won't  hold  out  long.  She  is  in- 
jured internally,  and  is  so  fleshy  and  aged,  it  will  go 
hard  with  her." 

"  1'our  thing,"  said  Emma  Lovering,  "I  am  glad  sho 


170  HESTER    STEOXG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

is  here.  We  will  try  to  be  patient  with  her.  She  had  a 
hard  time  when  young-.  I  am  told  she  was  a  faithful 
daughter." 

George  and  Fanny  thought  of  their  rash  wishes,  and 
felt  sorry. 

"  We  don't  know  what  we  shall  be,  when  we  are 
eighty,"  said  Fanny,  "  with  a  lame  leg  and  nobody  to 
love  us.  Let's  be  real  kind  to  her  now.  She  may  live 
a  long  time,  but  she  can't  ever  sit  up  again,  uncle  Ed- 
ward says." 

"Well,"  said  George,  "I'll  go  for  the  men  to  help 
move  her  ;  it  will  be  awful  to  lie  there  so,  and  go  to  the 
'poticary  shot,'  as  Willie  calls  it,  for  medicine." 

"0,  don't  say  anything  funny  now,"  said  Fanny; 
"  only  think  what  mother  has  got  to  go  through,  and 
father  too." 

"  0,  I  know  it,"  said  George  ;  "  I  am  doing  what  father 
calls  'taking  things  by  the  smooth  handle.'  " 

And  so  Miss  Patty  has  been  lying  on  that  bed  of  pain 
three  months.  She  has  changed  in  every  respect ;  com- 
paratively speaking,  she  is  patient  and  grateful.  She  is 
apparently  failing.  Uncle  Frank  thinks  she  must  have 
been  a  Christian ;  that  the  pure  gold  was  there,  only 
crusted  over  by  mistaken  notions. 

"  I  am  really  afraid  I  shall  wear  you  all  out,"  she  says 
frequently,  "  I  am  so  heavy  to  lift,  and  need  so  much 
done.  Move  me  just  a  mite  —  won't  you?  I  suffer  so. 
Thank  you  ;  you  are  all  kind.  The  Lord  will  reward  you. 
There,  I  feel  easier ;  I  ought  to  be  patient ;  our  blessed 
Master  suffered  more  than  mortal  agony,  and  all  for  us. 
0,  I've  been  a  poor  servant,  unfaithful  and  unworthy.  If 
I  could  live  my  life  over,  I  would  look  more  on  the  cheer- 
ful side  of  things." 


TUE    ACCIDENT.  HT 

And  now  the  whole  family,  Wallace  included,  love  to 
wait  on  her,  notwithstanding  her  faults,  for  she  is  trying 
to  imitate  the  Master.  On  our  way  back  to  the  village, 
we  will  step  into  grandpa  Lovering's.  Eumor  whispers 
that  matrimony  will  be  committed  there  soon.  He  tried 
to  persuade  Martha  Manlic  to  become  the  mistress  of  his 
house,  but  she  firmly,  though  gently,  declined. 

Charles  Lovering  was  surprised  when  his  father  told 
him,  one  day,  many  circumstances  which  had  happened 
in  the  family. 

"  I  don't  want  to  prejudice  you  against  your  wife," 
said  Mr.  Lovering ;  "  she  is  a  good  wife  and  mother  to 
you  and  your  children,  an  excellent  housekeeper,  a  good 
nurse,  &c.  ;  but  she  worried  your  mother  constantly  by 
suggesting  that  you  did  more  than  your  share  of  the 
work,  that  we  used  the  most  meat,  &c.  She  objected  to 
my  having  the  children  and  grandchildren  at  home  so 
often,  said  hard  things  about  my  doing  so  much  for  Har- 
mony, and  didn't*  want  the  children  here  after  their  mother 
died.  I  didn't  know  much  about  it  when  mother  was 
here  to  bear  it,  though  I  used  to  overhear  some  things. 
She  seems  worried  all  the  time,  for  fear  I  shalUdcfraud 
or  overreach  you.  But  since  I  have  had  a  housekeeper, 
I  have  known  all.  Now,  don't  get  angry,  my  son,  but 
hear  me  out.  You  know  Judith  don't  want  mo  in  her 
family;  she  has  told  you  so  often.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  I 
can't  get  any  one  to  stay  while  things  remain  as  they 
are.  I  don't  want  to  distress  you,  or  injure  you  in  any 
way  ;  but  there  must  be  a  change."  And  the  son  knew 
his  father  was  in  earnest,  when  he  saw  the  good  right 
huiid  cliiu-lu'd  firmly  in  the  thin  gray  locks. 
12 


178  HESTER    STKOXU'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"Well,  what  do  you  propose  to  do,  father?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"  Do  ?  Why,  what  I  always  wanted  to  do,  but  you 
thought  it  unnecessary  labor  —  divide  the  produce,  pota- 
toes, apples,  pork,  butter,  all  —  everything.  I  shall  close 
the  doors  between  the  two  tenements.  Understand  me, 
my  son  ;  my  heart  is  all  right,  my  affection  for  your  family 
the  same  ;  but  I  want  to  remove  all  reason  for  complaint. 
I  want  peace.  Judith  will  see  her  mistake  some  time.  I 
shan't  hold  any  ill  will  towards  her,  and  your  children 
are  as  my  children.  But  I  must  keep  a  home  for  the  rest 
of  them." 

"I  want  you  to,  father.  I  don't  think  Judith  means 
half  what  she  seems  to." 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  grandpa.  "I  shall  Imild  a  new 
•wood  shed  at  my  end  of  the  house.  It  will  bo  all  ready 
for  some  one  of  your  children  when  I  am  gone.  I  am 
conscious  that  no  two  families  ought  to  be  mixed  up  ; 
they  will  be  happier  by  themselves."  » 

"  I  hope  you  will  stay  a  long,  long  time,  to  use  the 
house,  father,"  said  Charles,  fervently.  "  Judith  is  over- 
anxiotis«about  me  and  the  children." 

"  That  accounts  for  her  mistake,"  said  grandpa  ;  "  wo 
all  have  to  live  and  learn.  I  am  glad  you  have  so  good 
a  wife,  and  think,  when  we  get  fixed  right,  and  begin  all 
new,  we  shall  get  along  nicely."  And  they  did.  The 
nature  of  the  woman  was  not  changed,  only  her  surround- 
ings were  difFerent. 


MRS.    GILES'    SICKNESS.  179 


CHAPTER    XX. 

MRS.  GILES'  SICKNESS.  —  Miss  ANN  THROPEE,  OR  SYMPA- 
THY  WASTED. 

HESTER  is  at  Mr.  Trueman's,  spending  a  few  days 
with  her  adopted  children.  A  stranger  would  suppose 
her  to  be  a  real  mother  of  about  forty-five.  She  is  in 
earnest  conversation  with  a  member  of  the  family  not 
yet  introduced  to  the  reader  —  a  modest,  intelligent  youth 
of  about  sixteen,  the  eldest  son  by  the  first  wife,  and 
own  brother  to  Lucy.  Reader,  you  are  surprised  to  learn 
that  Mrs.  Trueman  is  a  step-mother.  Listen,  and  you  will 
see  that  I  am  correct. 

"Do  you  think  you  shall  study  theology? "  said 
Hester. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  earnest  reply,  "  I  desire  to,  if  father 
and  mother  think  it  best.  I  know  that  it  is  a  high  and 
holy  calling,  and  feel  unworthy  ;  but  the  promise  is, 
'  Those  that  seek  me  early  shall  find  me  ; '  and  if  God  is 
with  me,  I  can  do  all  things  —  even  conquer  my  easily 
besetting  sins,  and  preach  the  glorious  gospel  accept- 
ably." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Hester,  "  your  mother  will  not  op- 
pose you  in  that,  for  she  has  expressed  the  wish  to  me 
that  it  might  be  so  ;  and  your  own  mother  would  lu\  e 
desired  it  above  all  things.  You  hardly  remember  her, 
I  suppose." 


180  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  her  as  a  pleasant,  beautiful  dream. 
I  felt  angry  with  God  because  they  told  me  he  had  taken 
her,  until  you  came,  and  then  you  talked  to  me  about 
God  and  heaven,  and  how  mother  was  sitting  beside  the 
clear,  bright  fountain  of  life,  listening  to  the  music,  and 
eating  the  delicious  fruit  from  the  tree  in  the  midst  of 
the  garden,  until  I  felt  sorry  for  my  anger,  and  you  asked 
God  to  forgive  me." 

"  I  remember  it,"  said  Hester  ;  "  my  heart  ached  for 
you.  I  did  not  suppose  it  would  be  possible  for  any  one 
to  fill  that  mother's  place  so  faithfully  as  this  dear  mother 
has.  You  have  been  truly  blessed." 

"  I  know  it ;  the  boys  at  school  think  she  is  my  own 
mother  :  I  know  no  difference.  Did  you  ever  know  that 
I  date  my  conversion  from  that  terrible  sickness  she  had 
after  my  little  brothers  died  ?  My  dear  friend,  I  owe 
you  a  lasting  debt  of  gratitude  for  saving  my  mother's 
life,  and  calling  my  childish  attention  to  serious  things. 
I  had  thought  religion  a  gloomy  subject,  fit  only  for  the 
sick  and  aged  ;  but  your  cheerfulness  removed  that  pre- 
judice, and  made  me  desire  to  be  a  Christian." 

"  Howard,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  opening  the  door, 
"  I  wish  you  would  take  the  carriage  and  your  sisters, 
and  drive  over  to  Mr.  Giles',  and  briug  little  Winnie  over 
to  spend  the  day.  She  is  such  a  sweet  child,  such  a 
trusting  Christian,  and  we  all  love  her  so  much,  that  I 
want  you  to  see  her.  Father  says  you  can  have  the 
horse  two  hours  ;  so  give  them  all  a  drive,  and  get  back 
by  dinner  time." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  the  boy,  rising  and  bowing  very 
graciously,  "  I  am  happy  to  be  your  obedient  servant  in 
such  a  mission." 


MKS.    GILES'    SICKNESS.  181 

"  "Well,  do  not  forget  to  inquire  for  Mrs.  Giles,  if 
Winnie  cannot  come.  I  fear  the  dear  child  is  confining 
herself  too  much  to  her  aunt.  She  hasn't  been  to  school 
a  day  yet." 

"  No,"  said  Hester  ;  "  I  was  afraid  it  would  be  so. 
I  wish  you  would  send  for  her  to  spend  the  night." 

"  By  all  means,"  was  the  reply.  "  Children,  try  to 
persuade  her  to  come  prepared." 

They  found  Winnie  shut  up  in  the  nursery,  singing 
baby  to  sleep. 

"  Let's  listen  a  moment,"  said  Lucy  ;  "  isn't  it  sweet  ? 
Why,  it  is  a  hymn  !  I  thought  it  must  be  some  new 
song." 

"Yes,  it  is  a  hymn,"  said  Howard  —  "one  of  the 
sweetest  and  best :  I  know  it. 

*  Praise  ye  the  Lord !     My  heart  shall  join 
In  work  so  pleasant,  so  divine ; 
My  days  of  praise  shall  ne'er  be  past 
While  life,  and  thought,  and  being  last.' 

If  Winnie  can  praise  God,  surely  we,  who  are  older 
and  so  much  more  highly  favored,  ought  to,"  he  said. 
By  this  time  a  cold,  hard,  stern-looking  face  appeared  at 
the  door. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Giles  at  home  ?  "  said  Howard. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  blunt  reply,  "  and  like  to  be  for  the 
present." 

"  Is  she  very  sick  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  Yes,  I  s'pose  so ;  she  thinks  she  is,  an'  the  doctor 
says  so.  'He's  her  brother,  you  see." 

"I  am  sorry  she  is  sick,"  said  Susie ;  "we  wanted 
Winnie  to  go  to  our  house  to  spend  the  day  and 


182  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

night.  Aunt  Hester,  and  the  baby,  and  Elida  are  there, 
and  we  want  her  ever  so  much." 

"  You  can't  have  her,  I  s'pose ;  I've  got  my  hands 
full,  doin'  the  work,  without  lookin'  arter  young  ones." 
Winnie  sang  on,  unconscious  of  the  great  pleasure 
which  was  being  denied  her. 

"  Can't  I  see  her  ?  "  said  Lucy. 

"  S'pose  so  ;  go  into  that  room  over  there,  if  ye've  a 
mind  to.  Who  be  ye,  at  any  rate  ?  "  said  she,  looking  at 
the  carriage. 

"  We  are  Mr.  Trueman's  children,"  said  Howard,  as 
the  girls  stepped  into  the  nursery. 

"  0,  I  know  ;  you're  a  stuck-up  family.  Yer  father's 
wiser'n  Holy  Writ ;  that  says,  '  Take  a  little  wine  for 
yer  stomach's  sake  ;  '  he  thinks  it's  wrong  to  use  it,  sick 
or  well,  rain  or  shine.  I'd  like  to  have  'im  driv  to  work, 
out  in  the  'ot  sun,  hayin'  or  suthin'.  Tell  'im  so.  Better 
men  'an  he  is  use  it,  an'  are  likely  to,  for  all  'im.  You're 
the  fust  wife's  boy,  I  s'pose.  Wai,  I  pity  ye,  or  any 
other  young  one  that's  got  a  step-mother,  or  father  either ; 
that's  a  fact." 

"  You  needn't  pity  me,"  said  Howard  ;  "  nobody  ever 
had  a  better  mother  than  ours.  I  never  should  think 
of  her  being  a  step-mother  if  people  were  not  so  fond  of 
telling  me  of  it." 

"  That  shows  yer  depravity,"  was  the  insulting  reply. 
"  Ye  think  it  is  smart,  do  ye,  to  forgit  the  mother  that 
bore  ye  ?  Ye'll  see  the  day  that  ye'll  feel  yer  loss  ;  an' 
ye  orter." 

"  I  won't  detain  you,"  said  Howard.  "  If  you  please, 
I  will  sit  on  the  piazza  until  my  sisters  return." 

"  One  on  um  ain't  yer  sister  ;  she's  yer  half-sister ; 
better  call  things  by  their  name." 


MISS    ANN    TIIROPEE.  18,3 

* 

Howard  walked  away,  instead  of  sitting  down,  won- 
dering who  their  new  acquaintance  was,  arid  how  she 
could  spend  time  to  say  such  disagreeable  things,  if  her 
hands  were  so  full.  It  occurred  to  him  that  Winnie 
might,  perhaps,  take  her  little  charge,  and  ride  a  while 
with  them.  He  walked  up  to  the  nursery  door,  and 
tapped  lightly.  Susie  opened  it. 

"Ask  the  little  girl,"  he  was  about  to  say ;  but  as  his 
eye  fell  on  Winnie,  her  occupation,  position,  and  the 
expression  of  her  face  -caused  him  to  recall  the  words. 
"She  doesn't  look  like  a  child,"  he  thought;  "  what  a 
sweet  face  !  Walter  was  right  when  he  called  her  '  lit- 
tle lady.'  "  Lucy  introduced  her  brother  with  evident 
satisfaction. 

"  I  thought,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  sister,  "that  per- 
haps Miss  Lcntell  could  take  her  little  charge  and  ride 
with  us  for  an  hour."  Winnie  blushed ;  she  had  never 
been  called  "  Miss  "  Lentell  before. 

"  Call  me  '  Winnie/  please,"  she  stammered  ;  "  I 
want  Lucy's  and  Susie's  brother  to  call  me  '  Win- 
nie.' " 

"  That  I  will  do,"  said  Howard,  laughing  ;  "  we  ought 
to  be  well  acquainted,  I  hear  so  much  of  you  at  home, 
and  my  letters  have  been  so  full  of  you  of  late." 

"  I  feel  acquainted,"  said  Winnie  —  "  don't  I  ?  "  look- 
ing at  the  girls.  "  They  speak  of  you  so  often,  I  knew 
just  how  you  looked." 

"Can't  you  go?"  said  Lucy.  "I  can  take  Unie  in 
my  lap." 

"  I  will  ask  auntie,"  said  Winnie.  She  came  back,  in 
a  few  moments,  with  baby's  wrappings  and  a  beaming  face. 
"  She  says  I  can  go,  and  she  thanks  you  very  much 


184  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

for  calling  for  me.  She  wants  me  to  go  home  with 
you." 

"  0,  I  am  so  glad  !  "  said  Susie  ;  "  won't  we  have  a 
nice  time  ?  " 

"But  I  can't  go,"  said  Winnie,  cheerfully  ;  "  auntie  is 
so  sick  I  couldn't  leave  her  for  anything.  She  can't  sit  up 
a  moment.  I  wish  I  could  ;  I  would  like  to.  I  want  to 
sec  all  the  folks.  But  if  I  could  only  see  aunt  Hester 
just  a  moment,"  she  said,  looking  timidly  at  Howard. 

"  You  can,"  said  he  ;  "  we  can  drive  there  and  back 

•  twice  in  an  hour.     Yes,  you  shall  go  and  stay  half  an 

hour.     But  who  was   that  woman   that   let   us    in  ?     I 

should  think  you  would  want  to  go  somewhere,  and  stay 

there,  if  she  treats  you  as  she  did  us." 

"  0,  that  was  uncle  Giles'  half-sister,  Miss  Ann 
Tlu-opee." 

"Miss  Ann  Thropec,"  said  Howard;  "it  sounds 
familiar ;  but  I  can't  think  I  ever  knew  any  one  by  that 
name.  How  can  you  live  with  her  ?  Does  your  aunt 
like  her?" 

"  0,  we  just  submit  to  it !  "  said  Winnie.  "  I  want 
to  see  auntie  Hester  about  some  things.  I  am  ready." 
Baby  Unie  was  delighted  with  the  ride. 

"  Let  us  take  the  whole  care  of  her,"  said  Lucy,  "  and 
you  sit  on  the  front  seat  with  Howard ;  it  will  rest  you." 
Winnie  had  a  keen  relish  for  the  beautiful  in  nature. 
She  was  drinking  in  fresh  draughts  of  happiness  vrith 
every  breath. 

"  The  world  never  looked  so  pretty  to  me  as  it  does 
this  summer,"  she  said.  "  I  seem  to  see  Godwin  every- 
thing. I  am  not  afraid  of  him  now,  Susie.  You  remem- 
ber I  used  to  be." 


MISS    ANN    THROPEE.  185 

"  Why  are  you  not  afraid  of  him  ?  "  inquired  Howard. 

"  0,  because  I  love  him.  He  is  my  Father  and  my 
Friend  now.  Why,  have  we  got  here  so  soon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  now  you  run  in,"  said  Lucy.  "  I  will  keep 
baby  out  here.  Don't  let  them  eat  you  up,  Winnie." 

"  0,  no  danger !  "  said  Winnie,  as  she  went  hastily  in, 
and  spent  several  precious  moments  answering  questions 
as  to  why  the  rest  did  not  come  in,  and  why  she  herself 
could  not  stay  longer.  At  the  earliest  moment  when  it 
would  be  proper  to  do  so,  Winnie  said,  "  I  want  to  see 
you  alone,  auntie,  a  little  while." 

"  Mrs.  Trueman  will  excuse  us,"  said  Hester,  "  and 
we  will  step  into  the  parlor." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  "lam  sorry  we  cannot 
keep  you,  Winnie,  but  glad  to  see  you  give  up  so  cheer- 
fully, what  I  think  would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  you,  for 
the  comfort  of  your  aunt." 

"  She  calls  me  her  comfort,"  said  Winnie  ;  "  and  that 
makes  me  happy,  because  mother  used  to  call  me  so." 

Winnie  hesitated  when  they  were  alone. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  "  said  Hester  ;  "  speak  right  out ; 
you  know  time  is  passing." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Winnie  ;  "  that  is  the  reason  I  can't 
think  what  to  say." 

"  Who  is  taking  care  of  your  aunt  ?  "  said  Hester. 

"  Miss  Ann,"  said  Winnie,  "  that  is  one  thing  I  wanted 
tto  tell  you.  Auntie  will  die  if  somebody  don't  do  some- 
'  thing." 

"  Do  tell  me,  Winnie,  if  she  is  there,"  said  Hester, 
thoughtfully  "  Well,  I  am  sorry.  Is  your  uncle  kind 
to  auntie,  now  she  is  sick  ?  " 

"  I  don't  call  him  so.     He  dor.'t  go  near  her,  and  Miss 


186  HESTER    STROJJG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

Ann  don't,  cither,  only  when  she  wants  to  say  something 
ugly.  I  make  her  bed  when  Unie  is  asleep,  comb  her 
hair,  and  carry  her  a  piece  of  bread  and  cup  of  tea,  when 
there  are  any.  Auntie  cries  often,  and  says  nobody  cares 
.for  her  but  me,  now.  She  wanted  uncle  Giles  to  send 
for  you,  just  for  one  day  ;  but  he  wouldn't." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  said  he  wouldn't  have  you  there  with  your 
pauper  young1  ones.  His  sisters  were  enough  sight  better 
than  you.  But,  auntie,  you  must  come  right  off.  I  am 
afraid  to  stay  there." 

"  Afraid  of  whom,  Winnie  ?     Afraid  of  what,  child  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Winnie,  "  I  don't  really  know.  I  feel  so, 
that  is  all.  Uncle  Mason  is  real  good  to  me  now ;  buys 
me  candy  and  nuts." 

Hester  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  I 
suppose  you  must  go  now,  dear ;  take  this  note  to 
auntie." 

"  I  thank  you  for  taking  me  here,"  said  Winnie.  "  I 
feel  rested;  now  I  shall  be  able  to  cheer  auntic-;  and  I 
have  got  a  note  for  her  from  aunt  Hester :  that  will 
make  her  feel  better." 

She  went  immediately  to  her  aunt's  room,  gave  her 
Hester's  note,  and  told  her  about  her  ride.  Let  us  peep 
over  her  shoulder. 

"Darling,"  wrote  Hester,  "cheer  up;  it  is  always 
darkest  just  before  day.  I  shall  sec  your  father  before  I 
sleep,  or  write  to  him.  You  must  go  home.  Be  quiet. 
We  will  manage  it  all.  Aunt  Hester." 

The  sick  one  smiled  languidly,  and  hid  th£  letter  in  her 
bosom. 

"  Winnie,  how  came  you  to  think  of  going  to  Hester  ?  " 


MISS    ANN    THEOrEE. 

she  said.     "  You  could  not  have  done  better, 
indeed,  my  comforter,  my  good  angel." 

"  0,  no,  not  that,"  said  Winnie  ;  "  angels  are  holy  ; 
am  sinful." 

"  Well,"  said  Elevia,  "  couldn't  you  leave  baby  wi 
me,  and  make  me  a  cup  of  tea  ?     I  feel  like  eating  now ; 
things  don't  look  so  dark  to  me." 

"  I  guess  so,"  said  Winnie.  "  Couldn't  I  boil  you  an 
egg  ?  Grandma  Manlie  almost  lived  on  them.  I  know 
how ;  let  them  boil  three  minutes  and  a  half.  It  will 
make  you  strong.  And  shan't  I  toast  you  a  piece  of 
bread  on  a  fork  ?  Aunt  Hester  says  that  is  the  best  way," 
said  Winnie,  with  great  animation. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Elevia ;  "  I  think  I  should  like  to 
have  you.  I  want  to  get  strong." 

WTinuie  met  with  various  rebuffs  while  getting  her 
aunt's  tea. 

"  I  would  like  an  egg,"  she  said  to  Miss  Ann. 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?     What  do  ye  want  of  an  egg  ?  " 

"  I  want  it  for  my  aunt ;  it  will  strengthen  her." 

"  Strengthen  a  fiddlestick,"  was  the  ungracious  reply. 

"  Well,"  said  Winnie,  "  shall  I  take  the  key  and  get 
one  ?  " 

"  No,  not  for  her.  She's  as  well  able  to  come  out  and 
eat  as  I  am." 

"  She  isn't,"  said  Winnie,  her  indignation  getting  the 
better  of  her  discretion.  "  I  want  an  egg."  Winnie 
dropped  her  head,  put  her  middle  finger  in  her  mouth  a 
moment,  and  thought. 

"  0  !  "  said  she,  and  started  for  the  barn.  Uncle 
Mason  was  at  work  there.  She  hurried  past  him  to  the 
nest  on  the  hay,  caught  up  two  eggs,  and  was  returning, 
when  he  met  her  in  the  path,  saying,  — 


188  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  What's  your  hurry,  Winnie  ?  I  want  to  see  you. 
Should  you  like  a  hat  like  Susie  Trueman's  ?  " 

"  No/'  said  Winnie  ;  "  it  would  cost  too  much.  Mine 
will  do  for  me."  She  tried  to  pass  him. 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,  puss.  I  want  you  to  have 
one.  You  are  far  the  prettier  girl.  Come,  give  me  a 
kiss  ;  you  know  you  are  our  little  girl  now.  Your  aunt 
wants  me  to  treat  you  like  a  child." 

"  Please  let  me  go,"  said  Winnie,  as  she  slipped  past 
him,  and  ran  swiftly  to  the  house. 

"  I  shall  have  to  be  cautious,"  mused  Mr.  Giles,  as  he 
looked  after  her.  "  She  is  a  pretty  little  thing  ;  looks  as 
her  aunt  used  to.  Wasn't  I  proud  of  her  ?  She  was  so 
brilliant  and  spicy,  as  well  as  handsome  !  La  !  a  man 
don't  know  what  he's  getting  when  he  marries.  She  is 
as  wilted  and  faded  now  as  a  flower  nipped  by  the  frost ; 
moves  about  like  a  ghost.  I  thought  she  loved  me,  and 
would  keep  her  place.  She  will  find  out  who  is  master. 
lEeigh-ho  !  I  wish  Lev  would  get  well,  or  —  " 


WINNIE'S    THOUGIITFULNESS.  189 


CHAPTER     XXI. 

WINNIE'S  THOUGHTFULNESS.  —  SUNSHINE  AND  HER  FREAK. 

WINNIE  found  her  aunt  quite  weary  and  faint  from  the 
care  of  Unie.  The  desire  to  eat  had  ceased. 

"  I  have  been  gone  too  long/7  said  Winnie.  "  I  had 
to  go  to  the  barn  for  eggs,  and  the  water  wouldn't  boil ; 
now  I'm  afraid  you  can't  eat." 

"I  will  try  in  a  moment,"  said  Elevia.  "It  looks 
nice." 

"  I  will  set  it  here,  and  take  baby  out,"  said  Winnie. 

Elevia  read  Hester's  note  again,  took  courage,  ate  a 
little,  and  then  lay  back  wearily,  closing  her  cyfcs. 

"  I  shall  never,  never  be  happy  again  in  this  world," 
she  thought.  "  It  cannot  be.  These  bitter  memories 
will  follow  me  to  the  grave.  This  terrible  disappoint- 
ment has  cast  a  gloom  upon  my  spirits  which  religion,  I 
think,  cannot  wholly  dissipate.  My  God,  lead  me  in  the 
way  everlasting,  so  that  death  may  bring  the  relief  I  seek 
in  vain  on  earth."  A  new  thought  took  possession  of 
her.  "  Will  he  let  me  keep  the  baby  ?  He  don't  love 
it ;  thinks  it  more  plague  than  profit.  But  won't  he  take 
it  away  to  tantalize  me  ?  0,  if  he  should  take  it,  Miss 
Ann  or  Mrs.  Wiley  would  have  it."  She  covered  her 
face,  and  wept.  "  There,"  said  she,  "  I  forget  what 
Hester  wrote."  She  read  again,  "'Keep  quiet.  We 
will  in:iii;i''-e  it  all.'  Of  COttTSe  Hester  will  think  of 


190  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

that  the  first  thing.  I  wonder  what  Mrs.  Payson  will 
think  of  me,  and  of  my  coming  home.  They  say  she  is 
a  kind-hearted  woman.  If  mother,  my  dear,  lost  mother, 
were  there,  what  a  difference  it  would  make !  There,  I 
must  stop  thinking,  and  try  to  sleep.  0  for  a  place  to 
rest !  Little  Winnie,  I  wish  I  could  learn  to  submit 
and  trust,  as  you  have,"  she  said,  as  the  thoughtful  child 
came  in  to  see  if  she  was  sleeping. 

"  0,  you  will,"  said  she,  "  when  you  are  better.  Aunt 
Hester  says  folks  can't  be  hopeful  in  some  kinds  of  sick- 
ness. Unie  is  asleep,  and  I  want  to  comb  your  hair,  as 
I  did  mamma's  when  she  was  sick ;  it  used  to  get  her 
her  to  sleep  in  a  minute,  sometimes." 

Winnie  combed  gently  for  a  while,  here  and  there, 
until  the  invalid  slept.  Then  she  crept  back  to  the 
cradle  to  keep  baby  sleeping.  Thus  several  days  passed. 
Miss  Ann  fretted,  scolded,  and  mourned  in  turn. 

Hester  had  a  long,  confidential  talk  with  Mrs.  True- 
man  while  the  children  were  absent,  which  resulted  in 
another  drive  for  Iloward,  in  company  with  aunt  Hester 
and  Sunshine. 

"  0,  dear  me,  hum  !  "  said  the  little  thing.  "  I  hasn't 
rided  a  bit  on  a  carriage  wis  a  cloth  over  it  this  long 
time  ago  "  (meaning  a  covered  carriage).  "  Don't  you 
'member  the  sligh,  and  the  bills,  and  the  horse  we  rided 
on  when  wo  went  to  Kistmas  ?  0,  funny,  funny  !  Don't 
you  'member  the  plums,  and  old  Santa  Dicolas,  that 
brought  the  candy  ?  I  some  naughty  ;  I  spects  he  won't 
gis  me  any  more." 

Iloward  laughed,  and  aunt  Hester  smiled. 

"  Who  used  to  say  '  Hum,'  darling  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"Why,   don't  you   'member?"    said  the    child  with 


SUNSHINE    AND    HER    FKEAK.  191 

evident  surprise.  "  It  was  my  other  grandmother,  up 
to  where  I  used  to  live.  She  weaved  and  spun,  and  said 
'  Hum.'  " 

Hester  smiled. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  her  ;  what  was  her  name  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  don't  know,"  said  the  child. 

"  What  is  your  father's  name  ?  "  said  Howard. 

"  0,  his  name  be  Morgan,"  said  she  ;  but  no  amount 
of  coaxing  could  induce  her  to  repeat  her  grandmother's 
name. 

"  Well,  what  is  your  name  ?  "  asked  Howard. 

"  I's  Mary  Elida,  I  is." 

"  Well,  haven't  you  another  name  ?  "  said  Howard. 

"  I  dess  not,  only  I's  auntie's  'ittle  Sunshine." 

Hester  was  at  a  loss  what  to  think.  It  was  possible 
the  volatile  child  had  forgotten,  having  heard  the  name 
so  seldom,  and  perhaps  not  at  all  for  a  year  ;  so  she 
resolved  to  wait  for  further  developments.  "She  took 
Mrs.  Payson  aside,  and  gave  her  a  fair,  condensed  state- 
ment of  facts  concerning  Mason  Giles'  character,  of 
Elevia's  state  of  health,  and  who  was  housekeeper. 

"  Don't  tell  me  any  more,"  said  Mrs.  Payson  ;  "  I 
know  that  woman.  She  hates  the  very  ground  she 
walks  on.  Why  don't  Mr.  Levering  bring  her  home  ijn- 
mediately  ?  I  hope  I  don't  stand  in  the  way.  I  want 
the  children  and  grandchildren  to  feel  just  as  much  at 
home  here  as  ever.  If  I  am  not  suited,  why,  I  can  leave 
—  that's  all.  I  dislike  to  see  a  man  neglect  his  children, 
just  because  his  wife  is  dead." 

"  Well,"  said  Hester,  "  it  hasn't  been  so  bad  long. 
The  right  lime  hadn't  come.  Elcvia  wished  to  try  in 
every  |M>ssilile  \v.i\-  f<>  please  him,  and  win  back  the  love 
she  imagined  she  had  lost." 


192  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Love  !  I  don't  believe  he  ever  loved  a  living  soul, 
except  himself,  in  his  life,"  said  the  ardent  Mrs.  Payson. 
She  could  submit  to  injury,  ay,  insult  and  wrong-  herself, 
but  had  no  patience  when  others  were  oppressed  and 
abused. 

"  Mr.  Lovering  isn't  the  man,"  said  Hester,  "to  neg- 
lect one  of  his  children.  I  call  him  a  pattern  father,  and 
a  pattern  man.  I  wish  there  were  more  like  him." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  widow,  enthusiastically ;  "  I 
know  him  ;  there  isn't  a.  better  man.  He's  down  in  the 
field.  Just  you  let  me  blow  this  horn,  and  he'll  be  up 
in  no  time.  I'm  so  indignant  at  what  you've  told  me 
that  I  can't  wait  for  him  to  go  after  her." 

"  How  does  Judith  get  along  since  things  were 
straightened  out  ?  "  inquired  Hester. 

"  0,  nicely.  She  takes  every  convenient  opportunity 
to  tell  me  what  a  fine  woman  Mrs.  Lovering  was  ;  how 
prudent,  &c.  ;  how  much  they  thought  of  each  other,  and 
so  on  ;  intimating  that  I  am  rather  extravagant." 

Mr.  Lovering  listened  to  Hester's  story,  Mrs.  Payson 
putting  in  a  word  now  and  then,  until  Hester  mentioned 
that  Mr.  Giles'  half  sister,  Miss  Ann  Thropee,  was  house- 
keeper, and  Winnie  nurse  both  for  baby  and  its  sick 
mother. 

"  Zounds  ! "  said  the  good  man,  starting  up  and 
plunging  the  strong  right  hand  into  the  gray  locks. 
"  If  that  don't  beat  the  horned  mice  and  the  leather- 
billed  chickens  !  There,  I  shall  make  a  fool  of  myself," 
said  he,  calming  down.  "  But  candidly,  I  had  rather 
have  a  bear,  robbed  of  her  whelps,  round,  than  her  ;  and 
Mason  isn't  much  better  behind  the  scenes.  Mrs.  Pay- 
son,  can  you  make  room  for  her  here  ?  " 


SUNSHINE  AND  HER  FKEAK.  193 

"  Make  room  for  her  ?  If  I  can't,"  was  the  reply, 
"it  is  time  for  me  to  leave  —  that's  all." 

"  Well,  Hester,"  said  he,  "  the  thing  must  be  done, 
but  not  hastily  or  shabbily ;  it  will  take  some  time  to 
manage  it.  The  poor  child  may  die  first.  Can't  you  go 
over  and  spend  the  day  to-morrow  ?  Carry  her  some 
oranges,  and  what  she  needs,  and  put  some  of  your 
hopefulness  into  her,  and  relieve  Winnie,  while  I  call  a 
council  of  war,  and  see  what  can  be  done." 

"Yes,"  said  Hester,  "I'll  do  it.  I'll  leave  Mary 
Fostina  with  Martha  and  grandpa.  Did  you  know  we 
had  changed  her  name  ?  " 

"  No,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  never 
liked  the  name.  But  what  will  you  do  with  Elida  ? 
Won't  you  stay  with  grandpa  ?  "  said  he. 

"  No,  dcss  not,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  spects  auntie 
wants  me  all  along." 

"  I  will  leave  her  at  Mr.  Trueman's,"  said  Hester. 

On  their  way  back,  Hester  spoke  purposely  of  Mrs. 
Lentell,  of  Morgan  Lentell. 

"  And  this  is  my  little  Elida  Lentell,"  she  said,  speak- 
ing to  Howard. 

"  0,  is  that  your  name  ?  "  said  he,  looking  at  the  child. 

"  No,  dess  not,"  was  the  reply.  "  I's  'ittlo  Sunshine 
Strong,  I  is.  Auntie's  'ittle  girl.  Santa  Dicolas,  he 
brought  me  a  pony  and  a  dolly.  When  I  come  again 
I'll  show  it  to  you." 

"  But  what  is  your  grandmother's  name  —  the  one 
that  weaves  ?  " 

"  I  dcss  it  is  Hum,"  said  the  child,  again  changing 
the  subject. 

"  No,"  said  Hester,  "  that  isn't  it.  Now  tell  me  what 
13 


194  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

it  is,  dear,  or  I  can't  allow  you  to  be  my  Sunshine,  or  my 
darling ;  and  perhaps  I  shall  have  to  send  you  to  live 
with  Mrs.  Lentcll." 

"  Hers  name  isn't  like  mine,  I  spects  ;  hers  is  a  bad, 
naughty  name  —  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  0,  well,  if  little  Elida  doesn't  love  auntie,  I  must 
send  her  back  to  grandma  Lentell's  to  live,"  said  Hester. 

"  0,  I  don't  want  to  go  to  grandmother  Lentell's," 
she  said,  flinging  her  arms  lovingly  around  Hester.  "  I 
can  say  it  —  Miss  Kittybill  Hum  Lentell.  There,  auntie, 
isn't  I  your  'ittle  Sunshine  now  ?  I  spects  I  is." 

Hester  was  silent. 

"Auntie,  isn't  I  your  darling?"  pleaded  the  child. 
"  I  is  dood,  I  is,"  tears  starting  into  her  eyes. 

"Yes,"  said  Hester,  "you  shall  be  my  darling  Sun- 
shine if  you  will  tell  auntie  why  you  were  unwilling  to 
speak  the  name  '  Lentell '  when  I  hear  your  prayers  to- 
night. But  you  have  found  several  new  words  lately  — 
'  dess '  and  '  spect ' :  where  did  you  learn  them  ?  " 

"  0,  my  Walter  say  so,"  said  the  child. 


HESTER'S    VISIT    TO    MRS.    GILES.  195 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

HESTER'S  VISIT  TO  MRS.  GILES.  —  LITTLE  JOHNNIE'S  DEATH. 
—  REMOVAL  OF  MRS.  GILES  TO  HER  FATHER'S  HOUSE. 

HESTER  took  an  early  start  next  morning.  Martha  and 
grandpa  were  delighted  to  receive  their  Mary  again. 

"Father  is  very  uneasy  without  her,"  said  Martha. 
"  I  shan't  consent  to  her  going  away  again.  The  little 
precious  birdie  girl !  You  see  I  am  learning  to  talk 
'  babified.'  I  used  to  think  it  was  silly."  Baby  seemed 
pleased  to  get  home.  She  toddled  up  to  grandpa's  door, 
and  pounded  with  her  tiny  fist,  saying,  "  Ope— e— do  — 
ope-e-do." 

Grandpa  started  with  joyful  alacrity. 

"  Birdie  bird,"  he  murmured,  "  did  you  fly  to  grandpa 
—  did  you  ?  Well,  well,  truly  glad  am  I." 

"  Su,  su ! "  said  baby,  holding  up  her  dress,  and 
pointing  at  the  red  slippers  which  Susie  Trueman  had 
given  her.  Hester  and  Martha  looked  on,  and  laughed. 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Martha,  "  that  father's  sight 
and  hearing  are  so  much  better  —  he  enjoys  seeing  and 
hearing  baby  so  well !  " 

"  0,  prett}',  pretty  !  "  said  grandpa.  "  Come  in,  lit- 
tle Mary  —  my  Mary,  come  and  sit  on  grandpa's  knee, 
and  tell  him  where  away  ye  went,  little  Mary." 

"'Ide-e-'ide,"  said  the  child — 'ide-'ide  away," 
as  she  pointed  at  the  cradle,  and  smiled  one  of  those 


196  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

wondrous  smiles.  She  smoothed  the  thin  white  locks, 
stroked  the  wrinkled  cheek,  and  manifested  her  joy  and 
affection  in  every  possible  way. 

"  That  is  truly  an  interesting  sight,"  said  Hester. 
"  0,  if  we  could  get  their  pictures  just  as  they  sit  now  ! 
—  the  two  extremes  of  life  meeting  and  blending  in  such 
trusting  love :  it  is  beautiful !  Why,  Martha,  these 
children  are  a  blessing  to  us  all." 

"  Indeed  they  are,"  was  the  reply.  "  When  is  Mr. 
Trueman  going  to  call  for  you  ?  " 

"  0,  as  soon  as  he  has  seen  to  the  opening  of  the 
store  !  He  is  a  noble,  generous  man  I  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Martha ;  "  but  I  think  he  is  a  little  too 
fast  about  temperance.  Because  some  people  abuse  a 
good  thing,  it  does  not  prove  it  to  be  bad,  you  know. 
Now  father  couldn't  get  along  without  his  eleven-o'clock 
dram,  I  am  sure." 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Hester;  "habit  has  become 
second  nature.  But  I  don't  think  Adam  took  a  dram 
daily :  I  never  have.  I  was  born  a  teetotaler.  I  am 
just  as  well  off —  better,  I  think.  The  apostle  says,  '  If 
meat  cause  my  brother  to  offend,  I  will  eat  no  meat 
while  the  world  standeth.'  I  say  Amen  to  that,  and 
apply  it  to  all  kinds  of  liquors." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  good  for  a  medicine  ?  "  said 
Martha. 

"  It  may  have  been,"  said  Hester,  "when  it  was  pure 
and  unadulterated ;  so  is  meat  good ;  but  if  it  cause 
my  brother  to  offend,  it  must  be  sacrificed  :  that  is  all. 
0,  Martha,  it  pains  me  to  see  so  much  stubborn  resist- 
ance, I  call  it,  to  the  cause  of  temperance  and  humanity, 
among  good,  well-meaning  people.  It  is  owing  to  igno- 


HESTER'S    VISIT    TO    MRS.    GILES.  191 

ranee  of  the  tremendous  evils  of  drinking.  I  have  been 
situated  so  that  I  could  see  the  sin,  misery,  poverty,  and 
cruelty  it  brings  in  its  train.  You  have  not  seen  much 
of  it.  I  tell  you  it  is  the  curse  of  the  age.  Think  of 
Morgan,  of  Mrs.  Gray,  and  a  host  of  others.  0,  there 
he  comes  ;  success  to  the  prohibitory  law.  If  I  were  a 
man  I'd  fight  to  extinguish  the  evil  by  burning  every 
still-house  in  the  land.  0,  haven't  you  a  loaf  of  your 
light,  sweet  bread,  that  I  can  take  to  Elevia  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  a  glass  of  jelly,  too.  Isn't  there 
something  else  I  can  send  her  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  think  of  anything.  Mr.  Trueman  has 
some  oranges  for  her.  But  suppose  I  should  want  to 
stay  all  night  ?  " 

"You  could,  and  longer,  if  needed;  we  can  get  along 
nicely.  Mary  isn't  a  bit  of  trouble." 

"  Good  by  ;  send  for  me,  if  you  need  me." 

"  I  have  been  having  a  terrible  dressing  down,"  said 
Mr.  Trueman,  as  they  rode  along.  "  Mr.  Wiley  thinks  I 
am  '  meaner  than  dirt,'  to  use  his  expression." 

"  No  bones  broken,  I  hope,"  said  Hester,  smiling. 
"  Dirt  isn't  mean,  unless  it  comes  in  contact  with  some- 
thing mean.  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  Can't  he 
get  rum  enough  at  Stillman's  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  don't  want  to  go  there  !  He  says  it  is 
too  bad  to  compel  respectable  people  to  go  there 
for  it." 

"  Let  them  go  without  it,  then  ;  there  is  no  compulsion 
about  it,  I  suppose,"  said  Hester,  indignantly. 

"  That  is  what  I  tried  to  make  him  believe  ;  but  he 
thinks  it  is  one  of  the  essentials  of  life ;  said  he  would 
us  soon  go  without  bread  as  spirits  of  some  kind.  He 


198  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

says  he  will  have  some  for  haying,  by  fair  means  or  foul. 
He  wished  me  anything  but  success,  threatened  to  in- 
jure my  trade  all  he  could,  &c.  I  confess  my  business 
has  diminished  since  I  stopped  selling  it,  and  commenced 
agitating  this  question,  and  that,  too,  in  a  quarter  where 
I  least  expected  it.  There  are  not  a  .half  dozen  real 
temperance  men  in  the  village,  A  great  many  call  them- 
selves so,  but  they  are  not.  I  don't  understand  it. 
Why,  I  thought  the  Loverings  would  stand  by  me." 

"  Haven't  they  ?  "  said  Hester.  "  Well,  there  is  no 
accounting  for  the  inconsistencies  of  good  people.  But 
they  will  come  out  right ;  all  such  folks  need  is  more 
light.  Habit  is  strong.  There  has  never  been  a  drunk- 
ard in  the  family  until  Harmony's  husband.  They  don't 
realize  what  a  common  curse  it  is.  But  you  won't  lose 
anything,  Mr.  Trueman,  in  the  long  run  ;  there  must  be 
pioneers  in  every  good  cause.  God  is  on  your  side. 
Soon  every  house  will  have  its  drunkard,  every  home 
its  broken  hearts ;  for  drunkenness  is  increasing  fear- 
fully. Then  the  evils  of  drinking  will  be  appreciated." 

"  When  shall  I  come  for  you  ? "  Mr.  Trueman  in- 
quired, as  he  left  her  at  the  door. 

"  0,  I  won't  trouble  you  to  do  that !  "  was  the  reply. 
"  Mr.  Giles  will  be  perfectly  willing  to  carry  me  home, 
I  think."  Winnie  was  feeling  discouraged  and  sad 
when  Hester  opened  the  door  and  stepped  in. 

"  Why,  aunt  Hester  !  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  I 
do  believe  God  sent  you.  Auntie  is  worse,  and  baby  is 
sick.  0,  dear !  I  haven't  slept  all  night." 

"  Of  course  he  did,"  said  Hester,  cheerfully.  "  Now 
you  shall  rest  a  little.  I  will  go  in  and  see  Elevia,  and 
then  you  must  go  to  bed."  When  Hester  opened  the 


HESTEH'S    VISIT    TO    MES.    GILES.  199 

door,  Elovia  reached  out  her  arms,  much  as  little  Unie 
was  in  the  habit  of  doing',  to  her,  and  began  to  cry.  She 
could  not  speak. 

"  There,"  said  Hester,  cheerfully,  "you  may  cry  just 
five  minutes  by  the  clock,  and  then  wipe  up,  for  I  have 
a  bundle  of  news  for  you  as  big  as  Bunyan's  pack." 
Hester  went  on  talking,  quietly  stroking  Elevia's  hair, 
and  before  the  five  minutes  expired  she  was  listening 
attentively,  only  sobbing  now  and  then. 

"  I  am  so  thankful  you  have  come,"  she  said  ;  "poor 
baby  is  sick,  and  Winnie  is  worn  out.  They  don't  help 
the  child  a  mite." 

"  We  can  always  find  something  to  be  thankful  for  if 
we  look  sharp,"  said  Hester.  "  Here  is  cause  number 
two,"  taking  out  the  oranges  ;  "number  three,"  holding 
up  the  jelly  ;  "  number  four,"  displaying  the  bread. 

"  That  looks  like  aunt  Martha,"  said  Elevia,  smiling. 
"  Give  the  largest  orange  to  Winnie,  right  off;  and  can't 
you  bring  the  cradle  in  here,  and  let  the  child  go  to 
bed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Hester  ;  "  I  am  glad  your  trouble 
doesn't  make  you  selfish." 

"  I  am  selfish  enough,"  s|io  sighed,  "  and  wicked 
as  need  be  ;  but  Winnie  is»so  self-sacrificing  I  She  never 
thinks  of  self."  Hester  cut  up  one  of  the  best-looking- 
oranges,  quietly  gave  it  to  Elevia,  and  took  one  to  Win- 
nie, who  was  suffering  sadly  for  sleep. 

"  There,  Winnie,  now  go  to  bed,  darling,  and  sleep ; 
that  is  a  good  girl." 

"  Kiss  me,  auntie,"  said  Winnie  ;  "  I  feel  more  like  my 
other  self  to-day,  I  miss  mother  so.  Do  Christians  ever 
feel  sad,  auntie  ?  " 


200  HESTEK    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  0,  yes,  dear ;  you  know  we  are  only  pilgrims  and 
strangers  here.  The  spirit  may  be  willing  when  the  flesh 
is  weak.  You  are  very  tired  ;  but  remember  this,  dear  — 
God  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever ;  and 
Jesus  is  always  watching  over  his  disciples,  in  sunshine 
and  in  shade.  Believe  this,  Winnie,  and  you  will  have 
a  calm,  restful  feeling  even  when  under  a  cloud." 

Hester  told  Elevia  of  her  visit  to  her  father's,  and  its 
results. 

"  Mrs.  Payson  is  all  eagerness  to  get  you  away.  You 
will  have  to  get  used  to  her  bustling  ways.  She  is  good 
and  kind,  but  not  so  quiet  as  I  should  like." 

"  Then  she  will  not  think  me  a  burden  ?  " 

"  No,  not  in  the  least.  I  am  more  afraid  she  will 
kill  you  with  kindness  than  any  other  way." 

"  0,  if  mother  were  there,"  whispered  Elevia,  "this 
would  not  be  such  a  terrible  cross.  I  long  to  go,  but  I 
tremble  when  I  think  what  the  result  may  be.  Will  he 
see  his  fault  and  do  better  ?  or  will  he  hate  me  worse 
than  ever  ?  These  questions  have  caused  me  many 
sleepless  nights.  If  I  should  never  return  here,  will  he 
take  my  baby  from  me  ?  lie  neglects  it  sadly  now  I  am 
sick  ;  and  Miss  Ann  hates  young  ones,  she  says." 

"  I  know  it  is  a  trying  case,"  said  Hester,  "and  no 
one  can  advise  you.  Ask  counsel  of  God.  He  will  help 
you  decide.  If  you  'think  you  can  endure  the  yoke,  be  a 
benefit  to  your  husband,  and  bring  up  your  child  right, 
here  you  ought  to  stay.  But  if  your  health  and  spirits 
utterly  fail,  as  they  now  have,  then  you  can  do  no  good 
by  staying,  and  self-preservation  demands  that  you  go. 
But  let  us  leave  this  subject ;  wait  and  see  what  your 
father  and  brothers  think.  Mr.  Gray  is  going  to  be  mar- 


HESTER'S    VISIT    TO    MRS.    GILES.  201 

ried,"  said  Hester  ;  "  there  is  quite  a  romance  about  it. 
lie  marries  a  lady  he  was  partial  to  when  young,  but 
was  too  late  ;  she  was  engaged  to  a  man  at  the  West. 
She  married,  and  went  out  there.  They  had  not  heard 
from  each  other  since  until  last  April,  when  they  met  in 
the  stage  ;  she  returning  a  rich  widow,  with  one  son,  to 
her  friends  in  this  region  ;  he  going  to  the  same  town  to 
offer  his  hand  to  a  maiden  lady,  a  distant  connection. 
They  recognized  each  other,  and  a  spark  of  the  old 
flame  seemed  to  have  lingered  in  one  corner  of  Mr. 
G  ray's  heart.  He  told  the  sad  story  of  his  life,  and  then 
listened  to  hers,  which  had  been  bright  until  the  death 
of  her  husband.  And  then  and  there,  in  the  stage,  amid 
the  whirl  and  rattle,  he  offered  his  hand  a  second  time, 
and  was  accepted.  'When  you  offered  yourself  before/ 
said  the  widow,  '  you  were  well  off,  I  was  poor.  Things 
have  been  reversed.  You  are  poor,  you  say  ;  but  I  have 
enough  for  comfort.' ; 

"  That  was  a  strange  coincidence  —  wasn't  it  ?"  said 
Elevia,  forgetting  her  trouble.  "  How  are  they  getting 
along  ?  Has  Lottie  kept  house  all  this  time  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hester  ;  "  the  oldest  girl,  who  worked  in  a 
factory  in  the  city,  learned  a  dress-maker's  trade,  and 
came  home  to  keep  house,  so  that  Lottie  could  go  to 
school ;  and  Lucy  Trueman  is  giving  her  lessons  in 
music.  Lottie  has  a  splendid  voice.  Ilattio  isn't  more 
than  eighteen  ;  has  been  in  the  factory  a  long  time. 
Poor  child  !  she  has  had  a  hard  time  ;  but  her  prospects 
brighten.  I  believe  they  buried  two  little  ones  between 
her  and  Lottie." 

"  Jack  Stillrnan  is  at  the  Reform  School,  I  suppose," 
said  Elevia.  "  I  pity  his  mother.  How  docs  she  ap- 
pear ?  As  proud  as  ever  ?  " 


202  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  No  ;  she  is  a  changed  woman.  She  has  not  professed 
religion,  but  we  all  think  she  is  a  Christian.  She  has 
done  nobly  in  Mr.  Gray's  case  ;  bought  back,  by  personal 
sacrifice,  nearly  all  the  furniture  that  poor,  deluded  Helen 
mortgaged,  and  by  kindness  quite  won  the  hearts  of  the 
whole  family.  The  girls  go  to  her  as  they  would  to 
a  mother.  She  has  joined  our  new  Temperance  Society, 
and  is  very  active,  doing  all  she  can  to  induce  her  hus- 
band to  stop  selling  liquor.  But  she  will  never  succeed 
—  never ;  at  least,  I  think  so.  He  isn't  far  from  a 
drunkard  now." 

"  I  should  think  intemperance  was  on  the  increase," 
said  Elevia;  "  we  didn't  use  to  hear  much  said  about  it. 
Mr.  Giles  and  Mr.  Wiley  lay  it  all  to  the  temperance 
folks.  They  think  it  is  impossible  to  get  along  without 
it  in  haying  time,  raisings,  &c." 

"  It  is  on  the  increase,"  said  Hester  ;  "  evil  is  self- 
propagating,  as  well  as  good,  only  more  so.  Let  them 
lay  it  to  the  temperance  folks,  if  they  will.  They  know 
better,  as  well  as  I  do.  It  is  the  increase  of  intemperance 
that  has  stirred  up  thinking  temperance  people  to  do 
something.  Our  young  men  are  falling  victims  to  it, 
their  families  to  them.  —  What  a  long  nap  Unie  is  hav- 
ing !  and  you  must  rest  now." 

"  She  didn't  sleep  much  last  night,"  said  Elevia ; 
"  you  always  carry  rest  wherever  you  go." 

"  Don't  flatter  me,"  said  Hester,  smiling ;  "  give  all 
the  praise  to  God.  I  want  you  to  try  Martha's  bread 
when  you  have  rested  a  little.  I  suppose  I  must  beard 
the  lion,  and  make  you  a  cup  of  tea." 

"She  won't  do  anything  but  growl,"  said  Elevia; 
"  she  tries  to  make  herself  appear  worse  than  she  really 


HESTER'S    VISIT    TO    MRS.    GILES.  203 

is.  It  is  unpleasant  to  have  her  here.  She  and  Mason 
don't  agree  about  anything.  She  seems  to  be  afraid 
that  she  shall  do  a  kind  act.  I  verily  believe  she  would 
be  as  much  ashamed  to  speak  a  kind  word,  or  do  a  lov- 
ing- deed,  as  you  would  not  to." 

"Quite  likely,"  said  Hester;  "I  have  seen  such 
folks." 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Thropee." 

"  Mornin',"  was  the  gruff  reply. 

"  How  is  your  health  ?  "  said  Hester. 

"  Good  'nuff,  I  s'posc  ;  it  ought  to  be  in  this  'ouse." 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  to  do,  I  know,"  said  Hester. 
"  Elevia  is  all  worn  out  doing  the  work  and  being  broken 
of  her  rest  with  the  babe." 

"  Fudge  !    She  didn't  'ave  anybody  in  bed  to  wait  on." 

"  No,"  said  Hester ;  "it  is  a  good  deal  of  care  and 
labor  to  look  after  sick  persons  as  they  should  be.  I 
thought  you  must  be  all  tired  out,  and  so  I  came  over 
to  take  care  of  baby  and  Elevia  a  day  or  two,  and  relieve 
you  of  that  trouble." 

Miss  Ann  was  cornered.  She  grumbled  over  some- 
thing which  Hester  did  not  stop  to  understand. 

"  I'll  trouble  you  to  show  me  where  the  tea  and  sugar 
are,"  said  Hester.  "  Elevia  must  take  a  good  deal  of 
nourishment." 

"  In  there,  I  s'pose  ;  find  it,  an'  ye  will.  When  I  lay 
in  bed  I  don't  eat." 

"Well,"  said  Hester,  "doctor  says  she  has  a  low 
nervous  fever,  and  that  baby  must  be  weaned,  and  she 
have  great  care,  or  she  will  go  in  a  decline.  Where  did 
vou  say  the  sugar  was  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  say,"  laughed  Miss  Ann.  "  I  had  to  hunt 
for  it,  an'  you  kin." 


204  HESTER    STRONG'S   LIFE    WORK. 

"  0,  well,  I'll  find  it ;  never  mind." 

Hester  went  to  a  closet,  found  a  very  little  in  a  bowl, 
made  her  tea,  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

"  Bread  in  there  somewhere,"  said  Miss  Ann. 

"  I  don't  wish  any,"  said  ITester.  "  I  brought  some." 
She  did  not  stop  to  hear  the  reply. 

"  0,  yes,  ye  thought  mine  warn't  good  'nuff,  I  s'pose. 
I  kin  make  as  good  bread  as  you  kin." 

Mr.  Giles  said,  "  Whew  I "  when  he  found  Hester 
there,  but  was  as  polite  as  ever  when  they  met ;  "was 
glad  she  could  come,"  &c. 

"  She  loves  good  living,"  said  he.  "  Ann,  starve  her 
out." 

"  Fll  fix  'er,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  can  stand  it  a  day  or  two,"  thought  Hester,  as  she 
saw  the  starved-looking  table.  Dr.  Edward  took  Mr. 
Giles  aside,  told  him  that  his  wife  was  in  danger  (which 
was  really  true),  and  that  she  must  have  the  best  of  care, 
or  she  would  die. 

"  She  will  be  sick  a  long  time  at  best,"  said  he  ; 
"  perhaps  you  had  better  call  in  another  physician  ;  I 
should  prefer  to  have  you." 

"  0,  I  don't  wish  to  do  that ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  if 
Elevia  would  arouse  herself,  she  might  get  up  sooner." 

"  But,  my  dear  man,"  said  the  doctor,  "  that  is  im- 
possible ;  we  must  get  her  up.  This  nervous  prostra- 
tion is  the  worst  disease  in  the  world  :  there  is  nothing 
to  build  upon.  By  the  way,  sometimes  change  of  scene 
will  work  wonders  — rouse  up  the  dormant  energies,  and 
set  things  right.  If  they  would  take  her  home  a  few 
weeks,  she  might  rally.  Don't  you  think  they  would  ?  " 
he  inquired. 


HESTEIl'S    VISIT    TO    SIRS.    GILES.  205 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr.  Giles.  He  was 
thinking  what  a  saving  it  would  be  —  what  a  fuss  it  was 
to  have  a  sick  wife. 

"  I  think  father  would  like  to  have  her  come  ;  she 
would  be  welcome  there.  I'll  speak  to  him,  and  let  you 
know  in  a  day  or  two.  She  is  growing  weaker,  and 
will  not  be  able  to  ride  there  soon." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  "  I'd  like  to  have  you  ask 
him.  As  you  say,  change  may  do  her  good.  Ann  will 
have  to  stay,  at  all  events,  for  the  present,  and  Winnie 
can  go  to  school." 

"  0,"  said  the  doctor,  indifferently,  "  Winnie  will 
kave  to  go  with  her,  until  Unie  gets  acquainted  with  the 
rest  of  them." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  she  will  have  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Giles. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  had  better  see 
father  to-night :  time  is  precious.  If  she  goes,  Hes- 
ter must  stay  and  fix  her  off,  and  perhaps  she  could 
take  Elevia  in  her  strong  arms.  I'll  see."  He  went  in. 

"  Now  keep  quiet,  sister,"  he  said.  "  You  mustn't 
even  think.  Leave  the  future  in  the  hands  of  God  ; 
now  you  have  enough  to  do  to  get  well.  Hester,  pack  her 
trunk  ;  you  know  sick  folks  need  a  good  many  things." 

"  I  understand,"  was  the  arch  reply.  Hester  found 
it  difficult  to  keep  her  patient  quiet. 

"  0,  auntie,"  she  said,  "  death  would  be  preferable 
to  life  under  such  circumstances.  I  should  not  be  afraid 
to  die.  I  believe  my  sins  are  forgiven,  and  yet  I  hardly 
dare  to  live.  I  hope  in  Christ,  but  I  cannot  rejoice. 
What  is  the  reason  ?  Perhaps  I  ought  to  be  willing  to 
stay  with  Mason,  and  bear  it  all  patiently.  If  I  could 
know  my  duty,  I  would  try  to  do  it." 


206  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  I  remember  the  dying  words  of  dear  Harmony," 
said  Hester,  "  after  receiving  her  husband's  penitent  let- 
ter. '  One  cannot  die  just  when  they  please,  or  live 
either.  I  have  longed  to  die.'  But  then  she  was  will- 
ing that  God's  will  should  be  done.  She  was  calmly, 
serenely  hpapy,  resting  like  a  weary  infant  in  its  moth- 
er's bosom.  0,  it  was  a  blessed  privilege  to  be  with  her! 
She  was  a  perfect  illustration  of  the  power  of  faith.  I 
want  you,  my  dear  Elevia,  to  find  rest  in  trusting  God. 
Go  home,  recover  your  health,  and  wait.  God,  in  his 
providence,  will  lead  you  in  the  path  of  duty.  '  Cast 
your  care  upon  him,  for  he  careth  for  you.'  I  will  go 
out  for  a  walk  with  Unie.  Winnie  is  having  a  line 
sleep." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Elevia.  "  Poor  child,  she  has  had 
a  hard  experience  here  !  I  hope  something  better  will 
turn  up  for  her." 

"  I  hope  so,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  now  you  try  to  sleep, 
dear."  Hester  stooped,  kissed  the  pale  check,  held 
Unie  down  for  a  kiss,  and  left  her. 

"  I  wonder  what  makes  Hester  know  just  what  peo- 
ple want,"  thought  the  invalid,  "  and  just  what  to  say 
I  was  feeling  worried  with  baby's  noise.  Hester  is  a 
living  epistle,  known  and  read  of  all  men.  I  never  heard 
the  most  sceptical  doubt  her  sincerity.  Mr.  Giles  thinks 
she  is  a  Christian,  if  there  is  such  a  tiling."  Hester 
reflected  upon  Elcvia's  remarks  concerning  Winnie's  hard 
experience,  and  thought  sadly  of  the  experience  of  her 
whole  life. 

"  Who  has  a  better  right  to  her  than  I  have  ?  "  she 
mused.  "  Her  dying  mother  confided  her  to  me ;  and 
when  Elevia  is  able  to  take  care  of  the  baby,  she  shall 
come  home,  and  go  to  school." 


HESTER'S    VISIT    TO    MRS.    GILES.  207 

"0,  0,  0  !  "  cried  En  vena  Wiley,  as  she  ran  towards 
Mr.  Giles'  —  "  0,  dear!" 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  said  Hester,  going  hastily  to 
overtake  her,  and  prevent  her  entering  the  house  in  such 
excitement.  "  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"0,  0  !  "  was  all  Envena  could  say,  'mid  the  wild- 
est kind  of  weeping.  Hester  hurried  on,  and  over- 
took her,  laid  her  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  said, 
kindly,  — 

"What  is  the  matter,  dear?  Don't  go  in.  Elevia 
is  very  sick  :  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  Dead,  doad,"  sobbed  Envena ;  "  Johnnie  is  dead  : 
they  found  him  by  the  jug,  dead."  Ann  was  as  much 
terrified  and  as  wild  as  Envena,  when  informed. 

"  I  can't  bring  'im  to,"  she  cried.  "  What  did  you 
come  to  me  for  ?  0  Lordy,  Lordy  !  if  there  is  a  decent 
child,  it  dies,  or  something." 

"  You  had  better  go  over,  Miss  Ann,"  said  Hester, 
"  and  try  to  comfort  the  poor  mother.  Perhaps  he  is  in 
a  fainting  fit,  and  may  be  brought  to  life."  Envena 
caught  at  that  idea,  said,  "  Come,"  and  she  herself 
started  for  home. 

Hester  awoke  Winnie,  left  baby  in  her  care,  and  went 
to  see  if  she  could  assist  in  any  way.  She  found  the 
little  one,  not  quite  four  years  old,  still  lying  on  the 
ground  beside  the  jug,  the  hot,  scorching  rays  of  the 
sun  fulling  on  the  cold,  dead  face  ;  the  mowers  standing 
around  in  silent  bewilderment,  too  much  intoxicated  to 
fully  realize  the  meaning  of  what  they  saw ;  the  dis- 
tracted parents  weeping  bitterly.  0,  what  a  sight  I 
Hester  understood  it  all  at  a  glance. 

There  stood  the  destroyer,  with  the  sugar,  glasses, 


HESTEE    STKONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


and  all,  on  a  waiter ;  and  there  stood  the  human  accom- 
plices, mute  with  amazement  and  consternation.  Her 
first  impulse  was  to  raise  the  dear  remains  in  her  arms, 
and  remove  it  from  the  beastly,  brutalizing  scene  to  a 
place  of  security  ;  but  it  occurred  to  her  that  it  was 
customary  to  hold  an  inquest  in  such  cases  ;  so  she  knelt 
there  by  the  dead,  and,  holding  her  apron  so  as  to  pro- 
tect the  face,  begged  one  of  the  men  to  go  to  the  house 
for  *au  umbrella.  She  inquired  if  the  doctor  and  a  jus- 
tice had  been  sent  for.  "  No,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  go  for  them  immediately/'  she  said ;  "  life 
may  not  be  entirely  extinct." 

Ah,  it  might  not  have  been  had  the  proper  efforts 
been  made  when  the  child  was  first  discovered.  It  was 
deep,  deep  intoxication  then ;  the  hot,  scorching  sun, 
falling  directly  upon  him,  had  finished  the  work  ;  and  now 
he  sleeps  in  death.  The  demon  of  the  still  has  received 
another  victim  offered  at  midday. 

"  0  God  of  justice  !  "  murmured  Hester,  as,  kneeling 
on  the  green,  fresh  grass,  she  chafed  the  little  soft  baby 
hand,  and  removed  the  flaxen  curls  from  the  smooth, 
white  forehead,  "  will  the  accursed  fire  never,  never  be 
extinguished,  except  by  the  blood  and  tears  of  little  chil- 
dren ?  How  long,  0  Lord,  "how  long  ?  When  wilt  thou 
arise  in  thy  might  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the  inno- 
cent, and  punish  the  guilty  ?  " 

And  the  answer  came  back  slowly  and  distinctly  to 
her  inner  consciousness,  — 

"  When  my  servants  do  my  bidding,  when  my  soldiers 
are  brave,  courageous,  and  self-sacrificing,  then  shall  my 
kingdom  be  established,  and  the  kingdom  of  Satan,  with 
all  its  terrible  engines  of  destruction,  shall  fall  with  a 


HESTER'S    VISIT    TO    MRS.    GILES.  209 

mighty  crash ;    and  I,   Jehovah,   will   reign,   and  send 
peace  on  earth !  " 

They  buried  him  ;  and  the  evening  dews  fell,  like  tear- 
drops wrung  from  Nature,  over  the  untimely  dead,  slain 
by  her  own  munificent  gift  to  man,  converted  by  his 
cupidity  and  ingenuity  into  a  consuming  fire.  Let  all 
who  oppose  the  Temperance  Reform  go  look  at  the  little 
grave  !  Ay,  at  thousands  of  little  graves,  scattered  all 
around  them,  made  by  the  accursed  influence  of  intox- 
icating drinks  !  Let  them  look  into  the  homes  desecrated 
and  desolated  by  intemperance.  Let  them  look  into  the 
helpless,  hopeless  face  of  the  drunkard's  wife,  and  her 
prematurely  old  children,  and  oppose  the  passage  of  any 
law  that  may  send  relief,  if  they  dare,  while  God  is  look- 
ing on. 

The  love  of  gain,  the  pleadings  of  a  vitiated  appe- 
tite, may  impel  them  to  oppose  any  and  every  effort  of 
the  friends  of  humanity.  But  there  will  be  a  day  of 
reckoning  which  they  cannot  evade.  God,  the  Judge, 
will  hold  them  to  a  strict  account. 

Little  Johnnie's  death  caused  quite  an  excitement  in 
the  village  ;  all  thought  the  liquor  had  been  drugged. 
Mr.  Stillman  was  accused  of  the  sin.  Mrs.  Stillman  was 
distressed  beyond  measure,  while  he  still  persisted  that 
it  was  a  lawful  calling. 

"  I  feel  very  thankful,"  said  Mr.  Trueman  to  his 
family,  "  that  I  have  been  brought  to  see  the  evil  of 
rum-selling,  and  left  it  off.  I  once  thought  it  was  right. 
Did  you  know,  Linnie,  that  my  father  used  to  sell  a  hogs- 
head per  week,  out  in  this  store  ?  Why,  our  minister 
used  to  buy  ten  gallons  at  a  time." 
14 


210  IIESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  was  the  reply.  "  Why,  people  talk 
as  if  there  was  more  drunkenness  now  than  ever." 

"Yes,  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Trueman  ;  "they  talk  so, 
and  sometimes  I  speak  so  ;  but  is  it  true,  considering  tho 
increase  of  population  ?  I  think  a  little  reflection  will 
show  it  to  be  false ;  at.  least,  as  far  as  the  quantity  is 
concerned,  I  think  the  quality  is  poorer  and  more  poi- 
sonous. I  don't  think  a  clergyman  can  be  found,  now, 
who  would  use  ardent  spirits  for  a  beverage.  Why,  it 
isn't  a  great  while  since  the  bells  were  rung  in  one  of 
our  cities,  at  eleven  and  four  o'clock,  for  the  workmen  to 
take  a  drink  of  liquor,  while  no  bells  called  them  to  their 
meals.  I  admit  that  there  may  be  more  real  drunken- 
ness and  crime  ;  mind,  I  say  there  may  be  ;  but  it  is 
owing  to  the  drugging  of  liquors.  Population  is  increas- 
ing, and  people  come  in  contact  with  each  other  more 
frequently.  We  know  more  of  each  other's  affairs.  Once 
a  man  got  drunk,  beat  his  wife  and  children,  and  went 
to  bed :  that  was  the  end  of  it.  Now,  if  a  man  beats 
his  wife  in  a  drunken  fit,  it  is  known  and  talked  of. 
Opportunities  for  crime  arc  greater,  the  denser  the  pop- 
ulation. At  all  events,  the  cause  has  begun  to  be  agi- 
tated ;  drinkers  and  rum-sellers  are  distressed ;  that  is 
encouraging.  Mr.  Wiley  talked  very  hard  to  mo  tlie 
morning  before  Johnnie  died,  because  I  had  taken  the 
course  I  have  ;  threatened  to  ruin  my  trade,  and  make 
a  poor  man  of  me  yet." 

"  He  can't  —  can  Ire  ?  "  said  Susie. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Trueman;  "I  must  leave 
the  result  of  my  actions  with  our  heavenly  Father.  I 
have  done  what  I  thought  was  right.  If  nominally  tem- 
perance people  would  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth, 
ail  would  be  well." 


HESTER'S     VISIT    TO    MKS.    GILES.  211 

"  Never  fear,  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Trueraan  ;  "  I  had 
rather  be  poor  than  bo  made  rich  at  such  a  sacrifice  of 
principle.  We  are  all  well ;  and,  with  a  clear  conscience 
on  that  point,  we  shall  never  want  for  the  necessaries  of 
life." 

Elevia  cast  a  long1,  lingering  glance  at  the  fine  new  house, 
with  its  capacious  barn,  its  neat  flower-garden,  as  she  left, 
and,  lying  back  in  Hester's  loving  arms,  thought  of  the 
bright  hopes  that  had  been  blasted,  of  the  sorrow,  dis- 
appointment, and  pain,  which  came  to  her,  instead  of  the 
peace  and  happiness  she  had  anticipated.  All  was  dark, 
dark  in  the  future  of  this  life.  Mr.  Giles  was  very  happy 
and  talkative.  Dr.  Edward  rode  beside  them  with  Win- 
nie and  the  baby.  To  him,  to  Hester,  and  to  the  whole 
family,  this  was  a  more  trying  event  even  than  Harmony's 
death.  Now  they  realized  the  truth  of  the  old  saying, 
"  Living  trouble  is  worse  than  dead  trouble." 

Several  times  the  little  company  stopped  to  rest  the 
invalid,  who  seemed  more  feeble  than  they  supposed. 
The  doctor  was  shocked  at  the  absence  of  all  affection 
or  tender  solicitude  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Giles.  He  was 
in  haste  to  get  back  and  attend  to  his  hay. 

"  Come,  Elevia,"  he  said,  briskly,  "  hurry  up  and  get 
rested." 

"  Tell  him  to  drive  on,"  whispered  Elevia ;  "  I  can 
bear  it."  And  so  on  they  went,  and  deposited  the 
almost  fainting  daughter  in  her  father's  arms  —  a  wreck 
of  her  former  self. 

"  She  don't  look  so  fresh,  and  fair,  and  happy  as  she 
did  when  I  gave  her  to  you,  Mr.  Giles,"  said  Mr.  Lover- 
ing.  "Hut"  —  and  ho  emphasized  the  word — "but 
we  will  try  to  bring  back  the  smiles  and  roses,  and  sec 


212  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

to  it  that  the  frost  don't  kill  them  a  second  time  —  won't 
we,  Mr.  Giles  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  che  has  faded  amazingly  since  she  was 
married.  I've  noticed  it,  but  I  can't  understand  it : 
every  wish  has  been  gratified.  We  men  don't  fade  so." 

"  That  depends  upon  circumstances,"  said  Mr.  Lover- 
ing,  thoughtfully.  "  But  all  women  do  not  fade  and 
become  sickly  as  soon  as  they  go  to  housekeeping.  My 
Mary  didn't,  the  doctor's  wife  hasn't,  and  many  others 
I  could  mention.  I  think  it  was  not  intended  that  it 
should  be  so.  Women  are  sensitive  plants ;  they  need 
kind,  tender  treatment,  Mr.  Giles ;  but  it  pays ;  I  tell 
you  nothing  pays  better."  Mr.  Giles  stepped  just  in- 
side the  door,  where  lEester  and  Mrs.  Payson  were 
engaged  in  reviving  Elevia,  who  had  fainted  from  fatigue 
and  the  mental  suffering  she  had  endured,  and  said,  in 
a  careless  manner,  — 

"  Hurry  up,  Elevia,  and  get  well ;  for  Ann  isn't  a 
very  good  housekeeper.  Good  by."  Mr.  Lovering 
plunged  his  hand  into  his  hair,  when  he  was  gone,  and 
said,  — 

'•'  Zounds,  Edward,  he  hasn't  the  least  bit  of  affection 
for  her.  She  is  the  same  as  a  slave ;  I  see  that.  She 
shan't  trouble  him  in  the  future." 

"  She  will  trouble  no  one  long,"  said  the  doctor, 
eadly,  "  unless  she  rallies  soon." 


THE    STRUGGLE    AND    THE    TRIUMPH.  213 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE  STRUGGLE  AND  THE  TRIUMPH.  —  THE  COUNCIL.  —  MR. 
GILES'  VISIT. 

"  0,  IT  is  hard  !  "  sighed  Elevia,  as  the  united  efforts 
of  Mrs.  Payson  and  Hester  restored  her  to  consciousness 
again.  "  I  am  just  a  burden  to  you  all ;  he  does  not 
care  for  me ;  no,  no  !  And  I  thought  I  was  going  so 
easily ;  it  is  hard  to  come  back  just  to  suffer  and  be  a 
burden  to  you  all." 

"  Now  don't  feel  so,"  said  the  widow,  bustling  about 
with  her  eyes  full  of  tears  ;  "  you  are  just  no  burden  at 
all  to  me.  Why,  I  really  think  I  shall  be  better  content- 
ed, now  that  I  have  you  to  wait  upon  ;  so  don't  worry." 

"  But  baby  will  be  such  a  care  I  She  is  teething,  and 
you  can't  think  how  worrisome  she  is." 

"  I  guess  I  know  all  about  that ;  my  youngest  child 
had  a  hard  time  getting  its  teeth  ;  she  cried  day  and 
night.  Don't  let  that  trouble  you  —  don't.  Come,  the 
front  chamber  is  all  ready ;  you  will  be  away  from  the 
noise.  I'll  do  the  best  I  can  for  you.  It  won't  be  like 
having  mother,  I  know  ;  but  I've  been  a  mother,  and  I've 
lost  a  mother ;  so  I  know  something  how  you  feel.  There, 
don't  try  to  walk  ;  you  haven't  come  to  yet,"  she 
said,  as  Elevia  made  the  attempt,  and  sank  back  in  an 
almost  helpless  condition.  "  Hester  and  I  can  make  a 
chair,  school-girl  fashion,  and  carry  you.  There,  now  ! 


214  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

isn't  the  bed  soft  ?  I  stirred  and  shook  it  with  all  my 
might,  for  I  knew  you  would  be  tired  after  your  ride. 
Now  you  stay  with  her,  Hester,  —  you  understand  her 
ways  best,  —  and  I  will  see  to  the  baby." 

"  Winnie  will  tell  you  just  how  to  prepare  her  food," 
whispered  the  invalid. 

"  0,  yes,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  I  will  let  Winnie  fix  her 
food ;  so  rest  easy  about  that.  And  if  you  want  any 
namable  thing  in  this  house,  you  can  have  it,  I  know, 
just  the  same  as  ever.  I  hope  you  will  get  a  nap  and 
feel  better  soon." 

Elevia  lay  quite  still  for  some  time  after  Mrs.  Payson 
left  the  room.  Hester  took  a  seat  by  the  bedside,  and 
waited  ;  now  and  then  she  stroked  the  soft  but  somewhat 
faded  hair. 

"  I  think  I  shall  like  her,"  said  Elevia,  suddenly,  "and 
her  quick,  bustling  way  won't  trouble  me ;  it  will  divert 
my  mind." 

"  You  are  right,  my  child,"  said  Hester,  relieved  from 
anxiety  on  that  account ;  "  she  is  the  very  soul  of  sin- 
cerity and  kindness.  She  and  your  mother  were  firm 
friends,  but  as  different  as  could  be  in  many  respects. 
Now  try  to  rest,  dear." 

Another  pause.     Hester  hoped  she  was  sleeping. 

"  It  is  hard,  0,  so  hard  !  "  moaned  Elevja.  "  Life  was 
so  bright !  I  thought  he  loved  me  ;  our  home  was  pleas- 
ant ;  we  had  everything  I  could  wish.  That  makes  the 
cup  more  bitter,  auntie,  and  yet  I  must  drink  it  all." 

"  Remember,  dear,"  said  Hester  very  softly,  for  her 
heart  was  full,  "  remember  it  is  a  Father's  hand  that  holds 
the  cup.  Remember  the  words  of  the  dear  elder  Brother, 
in  his  untold  agony  in  the  garden  —  '  Not  my  will,  but 
thine,  be  done.'  Dear  Elevia,  can  you  say  thus  ?  " 


THE  STRUGGLE  AND  THE  TRIUMPH.        215 

"  Xot  yet,  not  yet,  auntie  ;  my  heart  is  hard.  I  can't 
be  willing  to  have  all  my  beautiful  dreams  of  happiness 
fade  out  in  such  terrible  darkness.  I  can't  say  it.  0,  I 
am  not  a  Christian,  after  all !  Pray,  auntie,  pray  ;  I  can't 
say  it ;  I  can't  feel  it.  I  am  not  a  Christian  —  all  my 
beautiful  things  are  laid  waste  —  I  am  so  unhappy  !  I 
must  die  ;  I  feel  sure  of  it ;  I  must  die  —  and  after  death 
is  the  judgment  —  and  I  have  no  Advocate  with  the 
Father  —  no  hope  !  I  shall  go  from  misery  to  misery 
more  awful  than  tongue  can  tell,  and  I  deserve  it  all. 
When  in  health  and  prosperity,  I  scorned  the  message  of 
mercy,  and  now  I  am  dying  without  repentance,  without 
pardon,  without  peace." 

Hester  laid  her  hand  soothingly  upon  the  hot,  throbbing 
head,  and  begged  her  to  be  quiet,  while  she  should  com- 
mend her  case  to  God. 

"  0,  yes,  pray,  auntie,"  she  said ;  "  pray  that,  if  it  be 
possible,  this  cu'p  pass  from  me." 

"  If  it  may  not,"  said  Hester,  "  what  then  ?  " 

"  That  I  may  be  willing  to  drink  it,  even  to  the  very 
dregs." 

Hester  was  no  stranger  at  the  mercy-seat ;  the  lan- 
guage of  prayer  was  familiar  and  pleasant  to  her.  Her 
armor  was  always  bright.  Every  want,  every  fear,  every 
desire  of  the  poor  suffering  one  was  spread  out  before 
the  Lord  and  his  Anointed,  fervently  and  effectually. 
Word  by  word  the  sick  one  followed  her,  slowly  and 
painfully,  as  if  the  words  sprang  from  her  own  burdened 
soul;  and  when  Hester  said,  "Amen,"  she  added  rever- 
ently, "  Not  my  will,  0  Lord,  not  my  will,  but  thine,  be 
done." 

All  was  silent  again  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  Elevia 
remarked,  — 


216  HESTER    STEONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  That  was  a  terrible  struggle,  auntie,  but  it  is  over 
for  the  present,  at  least,  thank  God.  I  thought  I  loved 
Jesus  before,  and  that  my  sins  were  forgiven  for  his  sake  ; 
but  while  coming  here,  I  realized  how  entirely  my  husband 
was  alienated  from  me,  and  also  that  my  days  were  num- 
bered ;  and  my  heart  rebelled.  0,  the  bitterness  of  that 
hour,  auntie  !  may  it  never,  never  return  !  " 

"  I  think  it  will  not,  dear  ;  I  trust  your  faith  will  grow 
brighter  and  brighter,  until  it  overcomes  the  world.  Per- 
haps, if  I  sing  to  you  some  of  the  beautiful  hymns  your 
mother  and  Harmony  loved  so  well,  you  will  drop  asleep." 

"  Do,  auntie,  for  I  am  so  very  tired  ;  take  my  hand  in 
yours,  please." 

Hester  sang,  "  My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee,"  &c.,  till  the 
weary  sufferer  fell  into  a  quiet  sleep.  She  was  startled 
as  she  noticed  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  the 
last  few  hours.  All  their  efforts  to  save  her  would  be  in 
vain,  she  feared.  About  her  soul  she  felt  quite  easy. 
She  had  noticed  a  change  in  her  for  some  time  past.  Her 
great  darkness  she  attributed  to  bodily  weakness,  and 
the  mental  suffering  through  which  she  had  just  passed. 

"  If  it  is  God's  will  to  take  her,"  she  said  to  Mr. 
Lovering,  "  we  must  not  hold  her  back.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances, we  ought  to  be  willing,  and  more  than  willing, 
for  only  a  life  of  sorrow  and  bitter  disappointment  is 
before  her,  if  she  lives.  Mason  Giles  will  never  change 
much,  I  fear.  Elcvia  was  right  when  she  said  he  did  not 
care  for  her  ;  she  is  only  a  slave  to  him.  Some  women 
would  have  sunk  down  to  the  position  quietly,  uncom- 
plainingly, and  died,  scarcely  knowing  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  them.  But  Elevia  could  not ;  she  has  struggled 
ineffectually  to  keep  her  true  position,  simply  because  she 


THE  STRUGGLE  AN&  THE  TRIUMPH.        21 7 

had  a  cold,  calculating,  selfish  being  to  deal  with.  It 
must  be  servitude  and  slavish  submission,  or  open  war- 
fare. I  think  Elevia  never  fully  realized,  until  yesterday, 
how  utterly  hopeless  is  the  task  of  gaining  and  retaining 
her  husband's  love,  and  occupying  the  place  of  a  wife. 
My  feelings  were  never  so  outraged  in  my  life  as  they 
were  by  his  unfeeling  conduct  yesterday.  I  feared  she 
would  die  in  my  arms,  she  was  so  pale  :  and  yet  he  never 
showed  the  least  concern,  to  say  nothing  of  affection. 
When  I  begged  him  to  stop  and  let  her  rest,  his  manner 
was  as  brisk  as  if  he  were  going  on  a  pleasure  excursion." 

"  Yes,  I  noticed  that,"  said  Mr.  Lovering  ;  "  it  pained 
me  severely,  and  I  resolved  that  she  should  never  return 
to  his  house,  unless  she  greatly  desired  it.  For  if  he 
had  the  least  bit  of  affection  for  her,  surely  her  suffering 
look  yesterday  would  have  called  it  forth." 

"  Yes,  that  is  so,"  said  Hester.  "  I  think  that  was  a 
bitter,  bitter  disappointment  to  the  poor  child.  0,  how 
many  times  the  dear  girl  has  said  to  me  in  the  last  few 
months,  '  If  he  only  loved  me,  I  could  put  up  with  his 
faults.  I  wouldn't  mind  his  locking  up  everything  and 
doling  it  out  to  me  as  he  would  to  a  wasteful,  thieving 
domestic,  too  mean  to  be  trusted  :  that  might  be  a  fool- 
ish whim.  I  wouldn't  mind  his  fretting,  if  he  fretted  at 
others  as  well  as  me,'  she  says  often." 

"  Hester,"  said  Mr.  Lovering,  sternly,  "  do  you  pre- 
tend to  say  that  Mason  has  treated  his  wife  in  that  way  ? 
What !  locked  up  the  provisions,  sugar  and  tea,  and  all, 
and  doled  them  out  to  her  in  driblets  ?  Zounds  !  I 
never  heard  the  beat  of  that !  Why  didn't  you  tell  mo 
before  ?  "  he  said,  plunging  the  right  hand  into  the  inno- 
cent gray  locks. 


218  HESTER   STRONG'S   LIFE    WORK. 

"  Simply  because  she  requested  me  not  to,"  was  the 
calm  reply.  "  She  wished  to  keep  it  a  secret,  hoping 
that  he  might  sec  his  mistakes,  and  rectify  them." 

"  Niggardly  man  !  "  he  groaned ;  "  and  at  the  same 
time  spending  so  much  for  outside  show.  Now  I  under- 
stand why  Elevia  seemed  to  fail  in  cooking,  and  why  she 
always  looked  so  distressed  and  vexed  when  Mason  ral- 
lied her  about  the  scantiness  of  her  provision  for  the 
table."  After  a  short  pause  he  continued,  sadly,  "  Hes- 
ter, I  need  Mary  at  such  times  as  this.  I  need  the  ten- 
der, mournful  glance  of  her  eye,  when  passion,  my  old 
enemy,  begins  to  rise.  I  was  a  terribly  passionate  man 
once  ;  quick  as  a  flash.  I  thought  I  had  conquered  a 
peace.  You  know  the  reason  why  I  used  to  pull  my  own 
hair,"  he  said,  smiling  sadly  ;  "  it  was  to  keep  my  tongue 
still.  But  lately  my  tongue  runs  first,  and  the  pulling 
comes  afterwards,  as  a  punishment.  Heigh-ho  !  I  fear  I 
shall  get  to  be  as  ungovernable  as  ever,  if  some  loving 
hand  don't  hold  me  in  a  little." 

"  Your  Christian  hope,  Mr.  Lovering,  ought  to  be  as 
an  anchor  to  you,  both  sure  and  steadfast.  You  have 
been  sadly  tried  recently." 

"  That  is  no  excuse,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "  I  know 
where  to  look  for  strength  and  help  ;  I'll  go  there.  I 
am  ashamed  of  myself." 

A  consultation  was  held  over  Elcvia's  case,  soon  after 
she  reached  her  father's  house,  and  nearly  all  hope  of  her 
recovery  was  relinquished.  Hester  and  Martha  went 
back  and  forth,  like  ministering  angels.  Judith,  even, 
lent  a  willing  hand,  arid  made  herself  very  useful,  and 
won  the  gratitude  of  the  whole  family  by  her  skilful 
kindness.  Hester  proposed  to  take  Unie  home,  saying, — 


THE    COIL.VCTL.  219 

"  Martha  and  I  can  take  care  of  her  as  well  as  not, 
and  Winnie  can  stay  to  sit  with  you,  she  is  such  a  quiet 
little  thing." 

Elevia  found  it  difficult  to  express  her  satisfaction. 

"  Auntie,"  she  said,  "tell  me  the  secret.  "How  is  it 
that  you  always  know  what  I  want  without  asking  ?  I 
can  do  nothing  more  for  my  precious  babe  ;  I  have 
given  her  entirely  up.  0,  ii  was  hard  to  do  it !  Her 
noise  disturbs  me.  I  want  to  be  very  quiet  while  I  live  ; 
and  with  you  and  Martha  I  know  baby  will  be  faithfully 
tended.  Yes,  I  should  like  that ;  but,"  she  continued, 
with  a  saddened  look,  "  what  a  labor,  what  a  task  for 
you  1  Do  hire  some  one  to  help  you." 

"  Rest  easy,  dear,"  said  Hester  ;  "  I  will  do  so  if 
necessary." 

'"  When  I  am  gone,"  said  the  sick  one,  "father  will 
be  her  guardian  ;  that  is  a  comfort.  And  he  says,  if  Mrs. 
Payson  consents,  he  shall  adopt  her,  and  give  her  my 
name.  And  Winnie,  dear  little  Winnie,  you  will  keep 
her,  Hester.  Father  has  promised  to  pay  for  educating 
her  out  of  Unie's  property.  What  a  mercy  that  father 
was  so  firm  about  securing  my  property  to  me  !  I  was 
vexed  and  annoyed  at  the  time,  but  now  I  see  the  wis- 
dom of  it." 

Mr.  Giles  was  informed  of  Elcvia's  danger,  but  seemed 
almost  angry. 

"I  expected  it,"  was  his  reply.  "Ann  said  she 
would  die  if  she  went  there.  I'll  have  her  brought 
home,  and  see  if  we  can't  get  her  up.  Exertion,  Mr. 
ring,  is  what  she  needs.  If  she  had  more  energy," 
ho  mused,  "I  think  she  might  get  well.  She  gave  up 
too  soon." 


220  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

Mr.  Levering  remained  silent  till  quite  composed,  and 
then  said,  — 

"  Mr.  Giles,  I  think  my  daughter  will  never  leave  my 
house  while  she  lives." 

"  Won't  she,  though  ?  "  said  Mr.  Giles,  thrown  off  his 
guard.  "  We'll  see,  we'll  see.  My  wife  won't  do  as  I 
say  —  will  she  ?  Who  will  hinder  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  was  the  firm  reply;  "I  will,  or  the  strong 
arm  of  the  law  will.  She  is  unable  to  be  moved  for  any 
cause  now,  and  you  cannot  touch  her.  Come  over  and 
look  at  her  ;  perhaps  you  will  be  sorry  for  treating  her 
so  cruelly  when  you  see  her." 

Mr.  Giles  started  nervously. 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Levering,  I  have  always  treated  her 
well ;  I  have  nothing  to  be  sorry  for,  only  that  —  "  He 
hesitated. 

"  Only  what,  Mr.  Giles  ?  " 

"  She  always  said  she  was  well,"  he  said,  evasively. 
"  That  is  the  way  a  man  gets  cheated.  I  wish  I  never 
had  consented  to  her  going  home.  How  is  the  child  ?  " 

"  Better,"  said  Mr.  Lovering,  holding  on  to  the  gray 
locks  firmly  —  "  better." 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  I  am  glad  to  hear  that.  If  the 
mother  dies,  it  would  be  better  if  the  child  could  follow 
her.  She  would  be  better  off,  you  see." 

He  was  thinking  of  money. 

"Perhaps  so;  but  I  am  selfish  enough  to  want  it  to 
live.  Come  over  and  look  at  your  injured,  suffering 
wife." 

"  I  don't  understand  you  ;  you  speak  in  riddles,"  was 
the  sharp  reply.  "  If  my  wife  suffers,  it  isn't  my  fault, 
but  her  own.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Lovering,  she  has  a  good 


MR.    GILES'    VISIT.  221 

stock  of  the  old  family  pride  and  stubbornness.  A  wife 
shouldn't  set  up  to  have  her  own  way,  as  she  has.  The 
Scriptures  say,  '  Wives,  submit  yourselves  —  " 

"  I  must  go/7  said  Mr.  Lovering,  in  a  low,  tremulous 
voice.  "  Some  other  time  we  will  talk  about  this." 

Mr.  Giles  came  over  Sabbath  eve,  and  seemed  some- 
what surprised  at  the  change  in  his  wife,  and  sobered  by 
her  deathly  look. 

"  Mason,"  said  Elevia,  holding  up  her  pale,  attenuated 
arm,  "you  see  that  I  am  going.  I  may  have  been  a 
poor  wife  to  you,  but  my  heart  was  yours  ;  and  now,  as 
I  stand  so  near  the  portals  of  death,  I  can  say  that  I 
have  always  tried  to  please  you.  If  I  have  failed,  for- 
give me  ;  it  was  not  intentional." 

She  turned  her  large/lustrous  eyes  full  on  his  face, 
and  waited  for  a  reply.  Mr.  Giles  was  not  expecting 
this  ;  he  was  somewhat  softened. 

"  Perhaps  you  have,"  he  said,  hurriedly  ;  "we  all 
make  mistakes.  I  think  you  have  resisted  my  will  rather 
too  much  ;  but  I  will  forgive  you.  I  hope  I  have  a  for- 
giving spirit.  You  are  willing  to  be  moved  home,  I  dare 
say ;  it  is  more  proper  for  you  to  die  in  your  own  house. 
Of  course  you  will  make  me  the  guardian  of  our  child's 
property ;  no  one  can  do  better  for  it  than  I  can,  I  am 
sure.  Ann  and  I  have  been  missing  her,  and  you,  too, 
Levie.  We  want  you  both  at  home." 

The  pale  face  flushed  deeply,  and  she  glanced  hurried- 
ly from  her  father^to  Mrs.  Payson,  who  started  up  arid 
stood  between  Mr.  Giles  and  the  bed. 

"Why,  Mr.  Giles,"  she  stammered,  "you  arc — why, 
I  don't  know  exactly  what  I  am  going  to  say.  You  see 
phc  only  just  lived  to  get  here  —  that  was  all;  Hester 


222  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

thought  she  wouldn't  —  but  she  couldn't  live  to  get 
back,  noways  at  all.  She  is  weaker,  a  great  deal  weaker, 
now.  And  about  the  baby  —  it  is  real  troublesome. 
Miss  Ann  would  get  tired  to  death  of  it,  it  worries  so. 
Why,  it  takes  Hester  and  Martha  half  their  time  to  keep 
it  quiet." 

"  0,  as  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  "  it  is  good  for  chil 
dren  to  cry.  But,  if  you  please,  Mrs.  Payson,  Levie  can 
speak  for  herself.  What  do  you  say,  Levie  ?  "  he  said, 
cheerfully.  "  Shall  I  come  for  you  the  first  fair  day  ? 
Your  being  here  is  making  a  good  deal  of  talk,  sister 
Wiley  tells  me." 

"0,  Mason,"  she  said,  pleadingly,  "look  at  me,  and 
tell  me  if  you  think  I  am  able.  I  am  almost  through. 
Let  me  die  here,  please." 

Mr.  Lovering  saw  that  she  was  becoming  very  much 
distressed,  and  he  could  endure  it  no  longer. 

"  Mr.  Giles,"  he  said,  striving  to  speak  calmly,  "  I 
wish  to  see  you  alone."  He  motioned  Mrs.  Payson  to 
stay  and  comfort  Elevia. 

"You  shall  do  just  as  you  have  a  mind  to,  and  that 
child  shan't  be  carried  to  Miss  Ann  —  never  ;  so  rest 
easy,  dear.  It  was  too  bad  for  him  to  talk  in  that  way. 
How  I  wish  Hester  was  here  —  this  blessed  moment ! 
She  would  know  just  what  to  say  to  you,  and  one  of  her 
prayers  would  make  you  as  quiet  as  a  lamb.  There,  let 
me  read  some  of  them  hymns,  or  something  out  of  the 
Bible  —  shall  I?"  Elevia  made  no  reply.  "  If  you 
just  want  me  to  keep  still,  tell  me  so.  0,  I  know  ;  I'll 
call  your  little  comforter." 

Elevia  nodded. 

"  I  won't  be  gone  a  second,"  she  said,  darting  out  of 


MR.    GILES'    VISIT.  223 

\ 

the  room,  saying  to  herself,  "  I  wish  I  was  her  mother 
this  blessed  night,  I  do.  Poor  child  !  I  could  say  some 
things  then  that  I  can't  now.  If  he  ever  asks  me  to 
marry  him  again,  I  will,  if  it's  the  day  after  the  funeral. 
I  should  like  to  see  them  get  that  child  then.  Why, 
why  !  who  would  a  thought  it  of  him  !  the  old  brute,  he 
hasn't  a  mite  of  feeling.  Winnie/7  she  said,  "  Mr.  Giles 
has  worried  your  aunt's  life  almost  out  of  her.  She's 
got  one  of  them  terrible  nervous  turns.  Kun,  child,  and 
see  if  you  can  quiet  her.  I  can't." 

Winnie  saw  at  a  glance  that  silent  sympathy  was  the 
best  medicine.  She  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  passed  her 
small,  soft  hand  gently  over  the  throbbing  temples. 

"  That  is  nice,"  whispered  the  sufferer,  closing  her 
eyes  wearily  ;  "  it  rests  me."  An  hour  passed,  and  still 
sleep  came  not.  Patiently  Winnie  kept  her  post. 
"  Can't  you  sing,  Winnie  ?  Perhaps  that  will  stop  my 
thinking  ;  I  feel  terribly.  I  can't  keep  still,"  she  said, 
tossing  her  arms. 

"  Uncle  .Edward  is  in  the  parlor  ;  let  me  call  him," 
said  Winnie.  "  He  will  give  you  something  to  take." 

11  Not  while  Mason  stays  here,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
know  what  they  are  talking  about,  and  it  distresses  me." 

Winnie  came  back  in  a  moment,  saying,  — 

"  He  is  going  now,  auntie,  and  uncle  is  coming  to  re- 
lieve you." 

All  that  passed  in  the  parlor  we  may  not  tell ;  but  Mr. 
Giles  threw  off  all  disguise,  and  said  many  hard,  unfeel- 
ing things  ;  declared  ho  had  been  cheated  and  deceived 
about  the  property.  He  wouldn't  have  married  her  if  he 
h;i.(l  known. 

"  Didn't  you  tell  mo,  Mr.  Giles,"  said  Mr.  Levering, 


224  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  when  you  asked  me  for  my  daughter,  that  you  didn't 
want  the  property  ?  that  you  had  enough  to  support 
her,  and  wished  she  was  poor,  that  you  might  prove  your 
devotion  to  her  ?  You  can't  deny  it.  Is  that  a  speci- 
men of  your  sincerity,  Mr.  Giles  ?  " 

"  0,  well,  I  didn't  care  for  that  paltry  thousand  or 
two  ;  if  she  had  been  poor  it  would  have  been  all  the 
same.  But  then  a  man  wants  his  just  rights  — that's  all 
I've  had  the  trouble  of  her,  and  it's  just  that  I  should  have 
the  control  of  the  child,  and  what  little  property  there  is. 
Who  has  a  better  right  to  control  a  child  than  a  father,  I 
should  like  to  know  ?  I'll  see  what  the  law  says  about 
this  thing.  You've  rather  got  the  whip-row  of  me ; 
but  we'll  see."  And  he  strode  away. 

"  Unmasked,"  said  Dr.  Edward. 

Mr.  Giles  called  at  Mr.  Manlie's  to  inquire  after  Unie  ; 
was  very  pleasant  and  sympathetic  ;  spoke  of  "  poor 
Elevia  "  with  much  apparent  feeling,  and  said  nothing  of 
what  had  been  transpiring.  Unie  was  shy  of  him  at 
first ;  but  he  showed  her  his  watch,  gave  her  his  knife, 
&c.,  until  by  and  by  she  sat  composedly  on  his  knee, 
when  his  manner  changed. 

"  Miss  Marilie,"  he  said,  in  a  commanding  tone, 
"bring  the  child's  cloak;  I  am  going  to  give  her  an 
airing.  And  you  may  as  well  pick  up  her  clothes  gener- 
ally ;  she  will  remain  at  my  house  for  the  present." 

The  family  were  astonished ;  Hester  remonstrated ; 
Martha  pleaded  ;  but  all  in  vain. 

"  It  will  kill  the  baby,"  said  Hester.  "  She  is  a 
stranger  to  you,  and  Ann  hates  her,  and  you  know  it. 
Come,  let  us  keep  her ;  it  won't  cost  you  anything. 
Elevia  will  be  distressed  beyond  measure." 


MR.    GILES'    VISIT.  225 

"  I  can't  help  that,"  was  the  cold  reply.  "  I  have  a 
rig-lit  to  my  child.  She  has  got  to  die,  at  any  rate  ;  it 
won't  make  much  difference  ;  and  the  baby  would  be 
better  off  if  it  should  die  too." 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Hester  ;  "  but  I  don't  want  her  to 
cry  herself  to  death.  Come  to  auntie,  darling." 

The  child  reached  out  her  arms. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Giles  ;  "  little  girl,  you  must  go 
with  me  whether  they  get  3rour  things  or  not."  lie 
started  for  the  carriage  ;  baby  commenced  crying  piteous- 
ly.  "  0,  that  won't  frighten  me,"  he  remarked,  looking 
from  one  to  another  ;  "  I've  heard  that  before." 

"  If  you  wish  to  prove  to  the  world  that  you  are  a 
monster,  wh}r,  take  her,"  said  Hester.  "  Wait,  and  I 
will  get  her  things." 

By  this  time  all  the  family  were  in  tears.  Little  Mary 
opened  her  large  eyes  in  utter  amazement. 

"  Ganpa  kie,  artic  kie,  Mamie  kie,"  she  kept  saying. 

Little  Elida  stamped  her  tiny  foot,  saying,  — 

"  Naught}7  man  to  carry  off  my  little  baby-dirl.  Gis 
her  to  auntie,  naughty  man." 

"  God  reward  you,"  said  Hester,  as  she  fastened  the 
little  cloak  and  unclasped  the  tiny  hands  that  clung  to  her. 

"  God  punitsh  you,"  said  the  gentle  Martha,  "  for  this 
and  the  other  — "  She  broke  down  and  wept  aloud. 

When  Elida  saw  him  drive  off,  she  exclaimed,  — 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  God  'bout  him  ;  "  and  she  too  com- 
menced crying. 

II ester  hastened  to  her  own  room.  Grandpa  and 
baby  tried  to  comfort  Martha. 

"  Don't  kie,  urtie,  don't  kie.      Mamie  kie." 

lu  a  bhort  time  Hester  appeared  all  ready  for  a  walk. 
15 


lijij  1JKSTKU    STKONG'S    LIFE    Wo::iv. 

"  Martha,,"  said  she,  "  I  shall  follow  her.  Mind  that 
Elovia  don't  know  anything  of  this.  If  she  wishes  to 
see  baby,  why,  make  some  excuse  till  I  bring1  her  back. 
iKiu't  tell  it  to  anybody.  If  Mr.  Lovering  comes,  charge 
hiia  to  keep  it  from  Winnie  and  Elcvia.  I'll  bring  her 
back,"  she  said  in  a  husky  voice. 

Mrs.  Pay  son  was  very  uneasy  after  Mr.  Giles  left. 

"  Mr.  Levering,"  said  she,  "  it  is  my  humble  opinion 
that  he  will  go  straight  to  Mr.  Manlie's  and  take  the 
child,  and  I  wish  you  would  take  the  doctor's  horse  and 
head  him  off.  Now,  come,  do  ;  it  will  be  awful  if  they 
get  her." 

"  0,  110  danger  of  that,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  it  would  be 
too  much  trouble.  What  would  he  do  that  for  ?  lie 
can't  get  the  property." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  was  the  quick  reply;  "but  couldn't 
he  torment  your  life  out  of  you  ?  and  couldn't  he  let  that 
child  cry  its  eyes  out  of  its  head  ?  What  would  he  care  ? 
And  if  the  child  worries  itself  to  death,  wouldn't  the 
property  go  to  him  ?  " 

"  It  would  if  steps  were  not  taken  to  prevent  it,"  was 
the  reply. 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  earnest  little  woman,  "take 
all  the  steps  that  are  necessary  —  do  ;  but  don't  let  him 
lay  his  hands  on  that  child.  Didn't  he  say  it  was  good 
for  the  blessed  little  things  to  cry,  and  die,  too  ?  You 
heard  him." 

Mr.  Lovering  looked  thoughtful. 

"  If  he  is  going  to  take  her  to-night,  I  am  too  late  ; 
his  horse  is  a  fast  one.  I  can't  get  there  in  season  ;  but 
1  will  go  over  early  iu  the  morning,  and  put  them  on 
their  ^uard." 


ABOUT    THE    BABY.  227 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

ABOUT  THE  BABY.  —  TROUBLE  UPON  TROUBLE.  —  THE 
PROPOSAL. 

EARLY  the  next  morning,  Mr.  Lovering  rode  up  to  Mr. 
Manlie's  door.  Somehow,  his  heart  misgave  him.  He 
dreaded  to  inquire  for  baby,  who  had  learned  to  reach 
out  its  little  arms,  as  it  had  never  done  to  its  father. 

Martha  burst  into  tears  as  soon  as  she  saw  him. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  said  he,  dropping  into  the  nearest 
chair.  "  Where  are  Hester  and  baby  ?  " 

Tlje  old  emphatic  "  Zounds  ! "  sprang  to  his  lips 
when  Martha  informed  him  ;  but  he  resolutely  held  it 
back,  thinking  how  the  word  had  troubled  Mary.  He 
simply  said,  — 

"  Ileigh-ho  I  This  will  be  a  terrible  blow  to  Elevia. 
Martha,  that  man  is  a  villain.  I'll  ride  over  and  see  if 
I  can't  bring  them  back." 

"  You  had  better  not,"  said  Martha  ;  "  Hester  will 
get  along  best  alone.  Does  Elevia  know  you  were  Com- 
ing here  ?  " 

"  No,  Mrs.  Pay  son  knows  it.  She  wanted  mo  to 
come  last  night ;  she  thought  he  would  take  it ;  I  didn't. 
I  promised  her  I'd  ride  over  and  see." 

"  Well,  don't  let  Elevia  know  a  word  about  it ;  don't 
tell  her  you  have  been  here:  and  if  she  wants  t<> 


228  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

her,  make  one  excuse  after  another,  and  put  her  off. 
Just  the  moment  she  gets  back  with  her,  we  will  let  you 
know." 

"  I'll  do  as  you  say  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Levering  ; 
"  but  I'll  see  Mr.  Leonard  to-day,  and  know  what  the 
law  says  about  these  things." 

He  returned  home  disheartened  and  anxious. 

"  Then  he  has  taken  her,"  said  Mrs.  Payson,  as  soon 
as  he  rode  up  to  the  door. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  that  isn't  the  worst  of 
it ;  I  don't  know  how  in  the  world  we  shall  get  her 
again.  Hester  followed  her  ;  what  she  intends  doing  I 
don't  know.  But  Elevia  and  Winnie  must  know  nothing 
of  this  ;  so  you  had  better  not  speak  of  it  to  any  one. 
If  he  loved  the  child,  or  had  almost  anybody  to  take 
care  of  her,  except  Ann,  it  would  be  different." 

He  leaned  his  head  on  the  table  in  a  desponding  mood. 
Mrs.  Payson  fluttered  about  like  a  wounded  bird. 

"  Now,  if  I  had  only  married  him,"  she  thought,  "  I 
should  know  what  to  say  to  comfort  him.  Well,  I  won't 
refuse  again  if  he  ever  asks  me." 

Tears  came  into  her  eyes  ;  she  couldn't  bear  to  see 
him  feel  so.  She  sat  down  at  the  other  end  of  the  table, 
leaned  her  elbow  on  it,  her  head  on  her  hand,  instead  of 
going  to  his  side,  as  her  heart  prompted  her. 

"  You  have  had  trouble  upon  trouble,  Mr.  Lovering," 
Baid  she,  "  and  you  bear  it  as  a  Christian  should.  I 
could  not  bear  it  half  so  well." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  am 
sure  your  life  has  been  full  of  self-denying,  Christian  love 
ever  since  I  knew  you.  My  esteem  for  you  has  been 
greatly  strengthened  recently,  and  my  children  are  learn- 


THE    PROPOSAL.  229 

ing  to  respect  and  love  you  ;  so  your  objections  to  be- 
coming my  wife  are  growing  less  and  less.  Perhaps, 
when  Elevia  took  your  hand  and  placed  it  in  mine  last 
night,  you  did  not  fully  understand  her  meaning.  I  did. 
She  had  expressed  a  wish  to  me  that  you  might  become 
my  wife,  and  be  a  mother  to  her  child  before  she  leaves 
me.  They  have  gone  —  one  at  a  time  —  Mary  and  Har- 
mony ;  and  Elevia  is  almost  through,  poor  child,"  he 
groaned.  "  It  will  be  a  comfort  to  her  to  know  that  you 
will  help  me  train  her  child.  You  can  do  so  as  my  house- 
keeper, but  better,  much  better,  as  my  wife.  I  know  I 
am  asking  a  great  deal  of  you,"  he  said,  sadly  ;  "  per- 
haps I  am  selfish  ;  but  I  need  you,  Mrs.  Payson  ;  yes,  I 
need  you  as  much  as  the  baby.  I  believe  I  am  getting 
to  be  a  child  myself,  or  I  should  have  waited  until  it  was 
all  over  before  speaking  to  you  again  on  this  subject." 

He  bowed  his  head,  and  wept. 

"  No  wonder  if  you  are  weak  and  childish,"  said  Mrs. 
Payson,  herself  weeping,  "after  all  you  have  suffered; 
and  then  to  think  how  you  have  been  kept  awake  nights  ; 
it  is  enough  to  kill  you.  On  some  accounts  I  would 
rather  wait  until  it  is  all  over  ;  but  if  it  will  be  any  com- 
fort to  you  or  her,  why,  it  is  no  matter.  I  have  been 
sorry  ever  since  she  came  home  that  I  didn't  marry  you 
before  ;  and  if  I  could  have  seen  all  the  trouble  that  was 
coming  upon  you,  why,  I  would  in  a  moment.  But  I 
was  afraid  I  wasn't  just  the  one  to  please  the  children, 
and  then  I  shouldn't  have  been  happy.  But  now,  if  I 
can  be  any  help  to  you,  take  me  ;  I  am  a  poor  creature 
at  best.  I  hope  you  won't  be  sorry,  and  I  feel  sure  I 
shan't." 

"  I  thank  you  a  thousand   times,  Mrs.  Payson,"  he 


230  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

said,  rising  and  taking  her  hand.  "  Come,  lot  us  cheer 
up,  and  go  and  tell  Levie  about  it.  The  dear  child  is 
feeling  anxious  lest  the  additional  care  may  drive  you 
away  from  me." 

"  0,  she  needn't,  poor  darling.  I  shall  stay  all  the 
sooner.  I  shouldn't  be  fit  to  live  if  I  could  leave  you 
with  the  care  of  a  little,  helpless  babe.  I  was  only  afraid 
they  wouldn't  like  me  —  that's  all  ;  I  am  so  different  from 
Mary.  I  never  can  fill  her  place.  I  feel  almost  afraid 
now."  She  hesitated,  and  turned  pale. 

"  You  need  not  fear,  my  dear  Mrs.  Pay  son." 

"Call  me  'Lizzie;'  William  always  did,"  said  the 
widow. 

"  I  know  of  no  one  that  will  please  me  or  my  children 
but  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Lovering.  "  We  have  proved 
you,  and  you  were  Mary's  friend,  you  know.  Life  has 
been  robbed  of  its  romance ;  we  have  learned  to  live 
amid  its  sober  realities,  to  enjoy  its  blessings  and  bear 
its  sorrows  —  have  we  not,  Lizzie  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  we  might  have  learned,"  was  the 
reply.  "I,  at  least,  am  a  dull  scholar.  But  we  have 
both  seen  affliction,  and  can  understand  each  other,  I 
think.  I  am  not  afraid  on  my  Own  account." 

"  Then  you  need  not  fear,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 
"  My  poor,  wounded  affections  are  yours,  and  you  have 
quite  won  the  hearts  of  my  children.  Olive,  even,  the 
most  obstinate  of  them  all,  had  no  objections.  Come, 
let  us  make  Elcvia  glad  for  a  moment."  He  led  her  in, 
and  with  a  calm,  peaceful  look  on  his  face,  said,  "  Bless 
us,  my  child  ;  she  has  consented  to  take  me  for  better  or 
for  worse  — little  Unie,  sick  Elevia,  and  all.  Can't  you 
thank  her  ? " 


THE    PROPOSAL.  231 

The  sick  one  reached  out  her  pale,  thin  hand,  and  said, 
with  a  smile,  — 

"  Yes,  dear  father,  I  can  ;  and  you,  too,  for  coining 
so  soon  to  tell  me.  And  0,  Father  in  heaven,"  she  said, 
fervently  clasping  her  hands,  "  I  thank  thee,  too,  for 
raising  up  one  so  kind  and  worthy  to  be  a  comfort  to 
my  father  and  a  mother  to  my  babe." 

Mrs..  Payson  was  much  affected  ;  she  stooped  over 
the  sick  one,  saying, — 

"  Can  you  love  me,  dear,  and  trust  me  with  your  child? 
Are  you  willing  I  should  occupy  your  mother's  place  ? 
Then  I  am  happy.  God  helping  me,  I  will  try  to  do 
right  by  little  tuie,  and  help  your  father  bear  the  burdens 
of  life." 

Sealing  her  promise  with  a  kiss,  she  busied  herself  in 
making  the  invalid  comfortable. 

"  What  does  Winnie  say  to  all  this  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lov- 
ering.  "  Do  you  think  you  will  like  to  have  a  new 
grandmother  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  have  been  saying,  '  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my 
soul/  ever  since  you  came  in,"  was  the  joyful  reply. 
"  I  had  a  great  deal  rather  have  Mrs.  Payson  for  grand- 
mother than  housekeeper,  for  now  she  is  ours,  you  see ; 
she  belongs  to  us  ;  she  is  all  our  own,  and  we  can  have 
her  always,  unless  —  "  Winnie's  voice  faltered  —  "  un- 
less God  takes  her." 

"  You  precious,  darling  child,"  said  Mrs.  Payson, 
folding  her  in  her  arms,  "  it  won't  be  very  hard  to  be- 
long to  you  ;  that  is  a  fact.  I  loved  you  the  moment  I 
hii  1  my  eyes  on  your  blessed  face.  And  you  arc  such 
a  patient  little  nurse,  it  almost  kills  me  to  see  you  so 
confined.  I  can't  have  it  so  much  longer.  There,  clear, 


232  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

now  we  are  good  friends  for  life  I  hope  ;  so  go  and  play 
out  in  the  open  air  for  an  hour.  I  will  stay  with  auntie." 

"  I  should  like  to  read  my  new  book  uncle  Edward 
bought  me,"  was  the  reply,  "if  you  are  willing." 

"  Why,  child,  haven't  you  had  time  to  read  that  yet  ?" 
said  Mrs.  Payson.  "  Well,  I  never  1  You  are  the  patient- 
est  little  thing  I  ever  saw.  Read  it  ?  Yes,  indeed,  only 
go  and  find  some  good,  cool,  shady  place  out  of  doors. 
And  don't  stir  till  it  is  finished,  unless  you  wish  to." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Winnie.  "  I  wanted  to  read  it 
very  much,  but  the  leaves  rattled  and  made  auntie  start. 
Can  I  bring  you  anything,  auntie,"  she  inquired,  "  be- 
fore I  go?" 

"No,  darling,"  was  the  reply;  "go  and  enjoy  your 
book  now.  You  are  auntie's  comforter  in  every  sense 
of  the  word." 


HESTER  RESCUES  THE  BABY.  233 


CHAPTER     XXV. 

HESTER  RESCUES  THE   BABY   FROM  ITS  UNNATURAL  FATHER. 
DR.  EDWARD'S  TIMELY  ARRIVAL. 

IT  was  quite  dark  when  Hester  arrived  at  Mr.  Giles'. 
The  nervous  sobbing  of  little  Unie  smote  her  ear  pain- 
fully. She  listened  a  moment. 

"  Wat  did  you  bring  that  young  un  'ere  for,  I  wonder  ? 
I  won't  touch  'er,  more'n  I  would  a  snake." 

"  Corne,  Ann,  don't  be  so  mean  ;  I  thought  you'd  do 
that  much  to  help  me.  Undress  her  ;  she  is  most  used 
up.  I've  conquered  her  ;  I  don't  believe  she'll  raise  the 
neighbors  again  to-night,  screaming.  It's  the  real  Lover- 
ing  temper  —  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Do'no  ;  guess  she  got  some  on't  t'other  side,"  was 
the  glum  retort.  "  Young  uns  are  a  plague,  any  way. 
Come  'ere,  then." 

A  quick,  sharp  cry  followed  this  speech.  Hester  raised 
the  latch  and  entered. 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Ann,"  said  she.  "  I  thought 
you  would  have  trouble,  and  came  over  to  help  you  take 
care  of  her,  till  she  gets  acquainted.  Poor  little  thing  ; 
she  is  as  timid  as  can  be."  Mr.  Giles  arose,  and  strode 
towards  the  baby  ;  but  Hester  was  before  him  ;  she  had 
little  Unie  folded  tightly  in  her  strong  arms. 

"  Mr.  Giles,"  said  she,  "  this  child  is  almost  dead.  If 
it  should  go  into  a  fit  and  die  to-night,  it  would  go  hard 


234  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

•with  you.  She  was  perfectly  well  when  you  took  her. 
There  !  look  I  see  what  you  have  done,"  as  the  nervous 
sobbing1  ceased,  and  the  little  form  writhed  in  strong  con- 
vulsions ;  "  see  !  " 

"  I  see  !  "  was  the  startled  reply.  "  I  didn't  think  of 
that.  Why  !  I  never  !  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

The  little  face  was  black  and  distorted  ;  the  frail  form 
shook  and  quivered.  Hester  wiped  the  froth  from  -the 
blue  lips,  and  said,  — 

"  Promise  me,  Mr.  Giles,  that  in  two  or  three  days 
you  will  carry  her  back  with  me,  unless  she  seems  per- 
fectly willing'  to  stay,  and  I  will  try  to  save  her.  Will 
you  promise  ?  "  Another  struggle. 

"  Yes,  yes,  save  her,  and  do  what  you  please  with  her. 
Don't  let  her  die  on  my  hands  so  suddenly."  Ho  had 
never  seen  any  one  in  a  fit  before  ;  it  was  truly  appalliug. 
Hester  saw  that  he  trembled. 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  she  ;  "  it  acts  something  like 
poison.  What  have  you  given  her,  Mr.  Giles  ?  " 

"  0,  nothing  !  nothing  !     Have  I,  Ann  ?  " 

"  Do'no  ;  good  nuff  for  ye  ;  needn't  bring  'er  'ere/' 
was  the  reply.  Hester  applied  herself  diligently  to  re- 
lieving the  little  sufferer  ;  and  after  a  while,  the  muscles 
relaxed,  the  eyes  opened. 

"  Birdie,  bird,"  said  Hester,  "  'tis  auntie." 

The  frightened  look  passed  awa}',  the  little  stiff  hand 
was  raised  painfully  to  Hester's  face,  a  smile  parted  the 
yet  blue  lips. 

"  She  looks  very  deathly,"  said  Hester. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Giles  ;  "  I  never  saw  anything  like 
it.  Do  you  think  she  is  going  to  die  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell ;  you  had  better  leave  me  alone  with  her. 


HESTER  RESCUES  THE  BABY.  235 

If  she  should  have  another,  as  bad  as  that,  right  off,  I 
think  she  would  die.  It  seems  to  me  she  must  have  taken 
something.  Haven't  you  given  her  some  laudanum,  or 
something,  Ann  ?  You  had  her  when  I  came." 

"  0,  Lordy,  no  !  I  hain't  gin  'er  nothin'.  He  licked 
'er;  I  didn't,"  she  said,  as  Hester,  in  removing  the  child's 
clothing,  pointed  at  some  large  red  marks.  Mr.  Giles 
looked. 

"  Why,  I  didn't  think  I  struck  so  hard,"  he  said. 

Baby  shrank  away  from  him,  and  moved  her  head  from 
side  to  side. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Hester  ;  "  leave  her  alone  with  me,  or 
she  will  have  another  fit." 

She  was  obeyed  instantly.  They  were  both  thoroughly 
frightened  by  this  time. 

"  Die,  or  not  die,"  said  Ann,  "  I  ain't  done  nothin'  ; 
ye  needn't  a'  brought  'er  'ere." 

Hester  slept  but  little  that  night.  Unie  was  very  rest- 
less, starting  in  her  sleep,  and  crying  out  every  now  and 
then.  She  was  glad  when  the  rays  of  morning  peeped  in 
at  the  window,  for  she  had  passed  a  dreary,  lonesome 
night,  and  longed  to  take  baby  in  her  arms  and  make 
her  escape  before  the  inmates  of  the  house  arose,  but  felt 
that  she  must  wait. 

"  Once  well  done  is  twice  done,"  was  her  motto.  If 
Mr.  Giles  consented  to  give  up  the  child,  that  would  end 
the  matter. 

Three  days  passed.  They  were  full  of  trouble  and 
weariness  to  Hester,  full  of  doubt  and  anxiety  to  the 
friends  at  home.  Little  Unie  was  very  sick.  The  fright, 
the  length  of  time  she  had  cried,  the  cruel  blows  she  had 
received,  and  change  of  food,  had  been  too  much  for  her. 


236  ITESTEtt    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOEK. 

Hester  really  feared  that  she  should  never  be  able  to 
carry  her  home.  Mr.  Giles  felt  mortified  and  somewhat 
frightened  ;  Miss  Ann,  angry. 

"  Pretty  fuss  you've  got  us  into  —  ain't  ye  ?  "  she  said 
to  Hester,  when  called  upon  to  render  some  little  ser- 
vice. 

Hester  made  no  reply,  because  Ann's  voice  caused 
Unie  to  start,  every  time  she  heard  it. 

"  Mr.  Giles,"  said  Hester,  "  I  think  you  had  better 
carry  us  home  ;  the  child  will  never  be  any  better  here. 
Every  time  she  opens  her  eyes,  it  seems  as  if  she  would 
go  into  fits.  It  is  lucky  for  you  that  I  came,  for  I  cer- 
tainly think  the  child  would  not  have  lived  through  the 
first  night.  Had  she  come  out  of  that  fit  in  your  arms, 
or  Ann's,  she  would  have  gone  into  another,  and  so  on 
till  she  died.  It  would  have  been  hard  for  you  to  con- 
vince people  that  you  were  not  guilty  of  a  horrid  crime. 
Yes,"  she  said,  "I  am  glad  I  came,  for  your  sake  as  well 
as  other  reasons." 

"  It  would  have  been  awkward,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mr. 
Giles,  thoughtfully. 

"  And  there  are  those  marks,  too,"  said  Hester.  "  I 
never  saw  such  a  sight  on  so  young  a  child." 

"  I  had  no  idea,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  "  that  I  should  leave 
a  mark ;  but  she  was  a  stubborn  little  thing  ;  she  wouldn't 
stop  her  screaming  till  I  had  whipped  her  several  times." 

"  For  shame  !  "  said  Hester  ;  "  the  little  thing  wasn't 
stubborn  ;  she  was  frightened  and  grieved,  that  was  all. 
I  never  saw  her  show  a  bit  of  temper.  Come,  Mr.  Giles, 
promise  me  —  yes,  promise  me  in  black  and  white  —  that 
you  will  carry  us  back,  and  never  take  her  ag.ii.j  without 
the  consent  of  her  guardian,  or  her  own  ;  and  I  promise 


HITTER  RESCUES  THE  BABY.  237 

that  those  marks  shall  never  be  seen  out  of  the  family,  and 
this  whole  affair  shall  be  hushed  up.  I  promise  never  to 
reveal  what  I  heard  through  the  open  window." 

Mr.  Giles  started, 

"  Eavesdropping  !  "  he  said,  fiercely.  "  Woman,  what 
did  you  hear  ?  " 

Hester  saw  the  frightened  look,  and  concluded  that  after 
all  she  had  not  heard  the  worst. 

"  0,  I  heard  some  things/'  Mr.  Giles,  "  that  had  better 
never  have  been  heard  by  mortal  ear,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  ever-present  God." 

"Eavesdropper!  tell  me,  I  say,  tell  me  what  you 
heard."  He  came  close  up  to  her,  his  whole  countenance 
expressing  rage. 

"  Stand  farther  off,"  said  Hester,  sternly  ;  "  you  will 
frighten  Uriic  to  death." 

"  I  wish  to  God  she  was  —  "     He  stopped. 

"  I  know  it,  Mr.  Giles,  I  know  it ;  but  you  shall  not 
kill  her." 

Hester  laid  her  on  the  bed,  and  turned  towards  him  with 
a  calm,  resolute  look.  He  seemed  to  be  measuring  her 
from  head  to  foot,  while  every  muscle  of  his  face  ex- 
pressed passion,  hatred,  ay,  malignity. 

"  Devil,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  "  tell  me  what  you  heard." 

"  I  shall  not,"  said  Hester,  resolutely.  "  Mason  Giles, 
I  am  not  an  '  eavesdropper.'  I  came  here  that  night 
under  peculiar  circumstances,  as  you  very  well  know.  I 
kucu-  you  would  need  me,  and  you  did.  I  didn't  expect 
| to  hear  what  I  heard,"  she  said,  bending  towards  him  and 
'"g  low,  "nor  see  just  what  I  saw,  either.  I  cx- 
Ui.io  crying,  nothing  more.  I  hesitated 
t  the  door.  Am  I  to  bkuue  fur  hearing  what  1  huavd  ? 


238  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

It  was  lucky  for  you  that  it  was  I  who  heard  it,  and  not 
another,"  she  said,  impressively.  "  But  I  promise  in  the 
presence  of  God,  that  I  will  never  repeat  all  I  heard,  if 
you  will  give  me  the  writing  I  require." 

"  I'll  trust  you,"  said  he,  the  muscles  of  his  face  re- 
laxing ;  "  I'll  trust  you ;  but  if  you  break  your  oath,  be- 
ware. But  first  give  me  a  writing  that  I  shall  never  be 
called  upon  to  pay  the  child's  board,  or  other  expenses, 
and  also  that  you  will  forever  keep  a  secret  those  terrible, 
thoughtless  words  you  heard.  I  didn't  mean  it ;  I  was 
vexed." 

"  That  I  will  do,"  said  Hester.  "  Bring  me  pen  and 
paper." 

The  two  papers  were  exchanged,  and  Hester  made  a 
bundle  of  the  few  garments  belonging  to  baby,  and  wait- 
ed for  Mr.  Giles. 

"  I  shan't  trust  'er,  if  you  do,  till  she's  gin  suthin 
better  'n  that ;  'er  tongue  is  allers  a  runnin',"  she  heard 
Miss  Ann  say,  as  she  stepped  out  to  hasten  preparations. 

A  strange  feeling  came  over  her  as  she  returned  and 
waited  another  hour.  Unie  was  in  a  deep  sleep,  and 
everything  was  still.  She  felt  timid  ;  it  was  a  new  feel- 
ing to  her. 

"  My  nerves  are  getting  weak,"  she  thought ;  "  I 
haven't  slept  much  for  three  nights.  Mr.  Giles,"  she 
called,  "  are  you  almost  ready  ?  Unie  is  sleeping,  and  it 
is  getting  late.  I  should  like  to  go  now." 

"  I  have  concluded  not  to  go  till  morning,  it  is  so  late," 
was  the  reply;  "and  Ann  will  help  you  take  care  of 
Unie  to-night." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Hester  ;  "  the  longer  you  keep  her, 
the  more  stir  it  will  make.  But  Ann  can't  help  me  ;  it 


DR.    EDWARD'S    TIMELY    ARRIVAL.  239 

would  only  worry  the  child,  and  keep  me  awake.  If  you 
are  not  going,  I  will  lock  the  door,  and  lie  down,  while 
baby  sleeps.  Good  night." 

Hester  knelt  in  prayer,  first  of  all,  and  then  threw 
herself  wearily  on  the  bed.  She  could  not  think  she  was 
in  danger,  and  yet  she  could  not  feel  that  she  was  safe. 
She  knew  not  what  to  expect.  She  arose  and  looked 
from  the  window.  The  darkness,  as  it  gathered  over  hill 
and  valley,  made  her  feel  more  lonely.  Unie  awoke,  and 
partook  more  heartily  of  nourishment  than  she  had  done 
before.  When  she  slept  again,  all  was  still  in  the  house 
and  on  the  street.  It  was  eleven.  Hester  raised  the 
window  which  opened  on  the  piazza,  put  on  her  shawl 
and  bonnet,  took  the  bundle  on  her  arm,  folded  baby  to 
her  bosom,  and  stepped  forth. 

"  Only  a  mile  and  a  half,"  she  thought ;  "  I  can  walk 
it."  The  night  air  felt  damp.  Little  Unie  lay  like  a 
dead  weight  on  her  arms.  "  I  am  not  so  strong  as  I  once 
was,"  sighed  Hester.  "  Perhaps  I  had  better  have  staid 
till  morning ;  but  I  am  getting  nervous ;  that  is  plain. 
There  is  something  about  that  house  that  is  terribly  de- 
pressing ;  and  I  feel  as  if  I  must  see  Elevia.  I  am  afraid 
this  affair  will  reach  her.  No,  I  am  glad  I  started  ;  I  am 
half  way  home  now."  She  paused  in  her  walk  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  sat  upon  a  stone.  The  moon  was  shining 
brightly.  A  carriage  came  slowly  up  the  hill,  and  Hester 
watched  it  eagerly  on  its  winding  way.  She  arose  and 
stepped  out  into  the  light.  The  doctor  drew  his  rein,  and 
looked  at  the  strange  apparition,  but  recognized  her  in  a 
moment,  saying,  — 

"  Aunt  Hester,  is  that  you  ?     How  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  ?"    said  bhe.      "I've  got  the  baby, 


210  HESTER   STRONG'S   LIFE   WORK. 

and,  what  is  more,  a  writing  from  the  father.  ITere,  help 
me  into  the  carriage,  and  drive  fast,  for  I  do  believe  the 
dear  child  is  either  dying  or  having  another  fit." 

"  It  is  a  fit,"  said  the  doctor,  springing  into  the  car- 
riage. "  I  shall  drive  -to  my  own  house  ;  it  is  about  as 
near,  and  I  can  attend  to  her  better  there." 

"  I  do  believe  God  sent  you  along  just  at  this  critical 
moment,"  said  Hester.  "  I  can't  explain  now,"  she  said, 
in  answer  to  a  question  from  the  doctor,  as  she  held  the 
little  sufferer  so  she  could  feel  the  air.  "  This  is  pretty 
fast  getting  along,"  said  Hester  ;  "  I  am  glad  we  are  here, 
doctor,"  she  continued,  as  she  stepped  slowly  from  the 
carriage  to  the  ground,  "  Hester  Strong  is  growing  weak, 
I  do  believe." 

"  There  is  a  good  reason  for  it,"  said  the  doctor  ; 
"  worn  out  in  our  service.  Hester,  this  must  not  be  any- 
longer  ;  you  must  rest."  The  doctor  spoke  to  his  wife, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Hester  found  herself  un- 
able to  render  necessary  assistance.  She  was  obliged  to 
leave  baby  in  their  care  and  retire.  Fortunately,  baby  did 
not  miss  her  ;  she  remained  in  a  partial  stupor  all  night. 
The  doctor  retired,  and  his  wife  was  left  alone  with  the 
care  of  Unie.  While  attending  to  her  wants,  she  made 
a  discovery  which  agitated  her  greatly  ;  namely,  the 
large,  ugly  marks  mentioned.  They  were  dark  now,  and 
looked  worse  than  ever. 

"  Edward,"  she  called,  quickly,  "  come  here,  do." 

He  was  there  in  a  moment. 

"  Look  at  that,"  she  said,  pointing  at  the  marks  ; 
"what  is  that?"  They  looked  at  each  other  in  per- 
plexity. 

"  Hester  has  passed  through  more  than  we  know," 
said  the  doctor. 


DK.    EDWARD'S    TIMELY    ARRIVAL.  241 

"  Tes,  and  baby  too,"  was  the  reply.  "  What  can  it 
mean  ?  You  don't  think  Mason  did  it  —  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  who  would,  if  he  didn't  ?  Poor  little  thing  ! 
I  should  really  like  to  know  what  this  means,  and  how 
Hester  came  on  that  hill,  at  that  time  of  night,  with  an 
almost  dying  child.  But  we  must  wait." 

"Yes,"  said  his  wife:  "now  go  to  bed  again  ;  you 
need  rest.  I  shouldn't  have  called  you,  but  I  was  fairly 
frightened.  I  can  take  care  of  her.  I  am  to  give  her 
this  every  hour,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Little  Unie  seemed  better  in  the  morning,  but  Hester 
felt  quite  unwell. 

"  I  shall  be  better  in  a  day  or  two,"  she  said  to  the 
doctor.  "  I  have  been  over-anxious  and  over-worked.  I 
was  so  afraid  Martha  would  worry  herself  sick,  or  that 
Elevia  would  hear  about  it.  And  there  is  my  little  Fossie  ; 
I  can't  bear  to  leave  her.  Besides,  your  father  is  all 
broken  down.  I  wish  he  was  nicely  married  ;  don't  you, 
doctor  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  promptly,  "  I  do.  Do  you 
think  Mrs.  Payson  will  marry  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  I  understand  such  matters,"  said  Hester, 
smiling.  "  But  they  must  not  be  kept  in  suspense  any 
longer.  If  you  are  determined  to  keep  us,  you  must  ride 
over  and  tell  them  we  are  here,  safe  and  sound.  But 
don't  tell  them  how  you  found  me.  Tell  them  baby  is 
sick  from  crying  so  long,  with  fright,  and  change  of  food, 
&c.  That  is  about  the  truth  —  isn't  it  ?  And  you  think 
she  will  get  over  it  soon  —  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Xes,  1  hope  she  may,  with  good  care  ;  but  it  will  be 
16 


242  HESTEll    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

some  time  first.  That  man  ought  to  suffer  ;  but  we  must 
leave  him  in  the  hands  of  God." 

"  I  am  willing  to,"  said  Ilester.  "  I  am  glad  I  haven't 
got  to  judge  him." 

"  My  father  never  invested  any  money  so  well  in  his 
life  as  he  did  that  which  he  spent  on  Hester,"  said  Mr. 
Levering,  when  the  doctor  showed  him  the  papers  which 
she  had  procured  from  Mr.  Giles.  "  She  has  been  the 
greatest  possible  blessing  to  my  family.  God  bless  her." 

"  lie  will,"  said  Mrs.  Payson  ;  "  hasn't  he  blessed  her, 
and  doesn't  he  bless  every  living  soul  that  she  staj's 
with  ?  Only  think  how  she  got  that  baby  !  There  isn't 
another  person  that  could  have  done  it.  Her  poor  mother 
is  expecting  Ilester  to  bring  it  over  to-day.  You  had 
better  tell  her  Ilester  isn't  well ;  that  will  satisfy  her." 

Grandpa  Manlie  and  Martha  were  rejoiced  to  hear  the 
news. 

"  Bring  them  home  as  soon  as  it  is  safe,"  said  Martha. 
Elida  capered  about,  when  told  that  auntie  and  Unie  were 
over  to  uncle  Edward's,  and  coming  home  soon. 

"  Dare,"  said  she,  "  I  told  God  'bout  that  naughty 
man,  and  he  said  —  "  She  paused. 

"  What  did  he  say,  pet  ? "  asked  the  doctor,  greatly 
amused. 

"  Well,  he  said  'he'd  sec  'bout  it.'  He  did  —  didn't 
he,  auntie  ?  " 


MIDNIGHT    MUSINGS.  243 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

MIDNIGHT   MUSINGS.  —  THE  DISCOVERY.  —  CONSCIENCE  DIS- 
TURBED. 

MASON  GILES  slept  but  little  that  night.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  was  angry  with  himself. 

"  I  was  a  fool  to  touch  the  young  one,  in  the  first 
place,"  he  mused  —  "yes,  a  d — d  fool!  But  if  Ann 
had  kept  still,  I  shouldn't  have  whipped  her  so  hard. 
Of  course  I  didn't  mean  to  kill  her."  He  shuddered. 
"  What  if  I  had  ?  Hester  saved  the  little  creature,  I  do 
believe,  and  my  neck,  perhaps."  He  moved  restlessly 
from  side  to  side.  "  Likely  enough  I  haven't  treated 
Levie  just  right.  I  believe  she  has  tried  to  please 
me.  0,  well,  women  are  always  fussing  about  some- 
thing !  She  needn't  have  cared  whether  I  loved  her  or 
not.  What  should  I  care  about  that  if  I  had  a  good 
home  ?  What  if  I  did  fret  ?  I  had  a  right  to,  in  my 
own  house.  I  worked  hard  ;  women  don't  consider  that. 
They  have  an  easy  time  sitting  round  in  the  house ;  and 
when  a  man  comes  in,  all  tired  out,  why,  it  must  be, 
'  My  dear,'  or  '  My  love,'  like  Dr.  Levering. 

"  Fudge  !  that  don't  get  a  living,  nor  pay  taxes.  A 
man  is  a  fool  to  get  married.  1  wish  I  hadn't  locked 
everything  up,  though,  for  I  don't  think  Lcvie  was  waste- 
ful. Nonsense!  Whose  business  is  it?  Isn't  a  man's 
house  his  castle  ?  I  thought  all  men  did  so  —  father 


244  HESTER    STROXG'3    LIFE    WORK. 

did.  I  wonder  if  brother  Wiley  lets  his  wife  manage 
those  things  ?  I'll  ask  her.  Dear  me,  I  wish  I  could 
go  to  sleep  !  hard  work  coming  to-morrow.  Lev  did 
look  pitiful  when  she  asked  me  to  forgive  her.  I  wish 
I  could  forget  it."  lie  moved  to  the  other  side  of  the 
bed  as  he  thought,  "  Why,  I  am  lying  in  her  place. 
She  was  very  pretty  when  I  married  her.  How  the  fel- 
lows all  envied  me !  And,  after  all,  I  can't  think  of 
anything  very  bad  that  she  ever  did.  I  wish  she  hadn't 
asked  me  to  forgive  her,  for  I'm  the  most  to  blame.  But 
I  wouldn't  tell  her  so,  to  save  her.  No  ;  I'll  be  hanged 
if  I  do  :  'twould  please  tliem  too  much.  And,  after  all, 
wasn't  I  the  head  of  the  family  ?  She  should  have  sub- 
mitted to  me.  It  is  a  wife's  place  to  submit.  I  wish 
Ann  wouldn't  make  my  tea  so  strong  !  I  shan't  sleep  a 
wink  to-night.  She's  as  stubborn  again  as  Levie  — 
that's  a  fact ;  and  not  half  as  good  a  housekeeper.  She 
is  a  miserable  cook,  and  it  costs  more  to  live,  too.  I 
mean  to  get  along  alone.  I  suppose  I  can't,  though, 
till  after  harvesting ;  so  I  will  try  to  keep  still.  There 
is  one  thing  I'm  determined  to  do  :  I'll  get  that  paper 
back,  or  Hester  shan't  leave.  Unic  will  be  big  enough 
to  keep  house  some  time,  if  she  lives  ;  then  I'll  want 
her.  If  Ann  could  have  got  in  there  and  stolen  the 
writings,  why,  they  wouldn't  have  got  any  more  — 
that's  certain.  If  the  child  should  die  after  Hester  has 
had  the  care  of  her  three  or  four  days,  I'm  safe  enough. 
And  then,  if  Lev  should  happen  to  die  suddenly,  I  don't 
believe  they'd  think  to  secure  the  property.  I  don't 
know  but  what  things  are  working  well  enough.  Why 
in  the  world  can't  I  go  to  sleep  ?  Ilere  it  is  past  mid- 
night. 0,  dear  !  "  He  tried  to  sleep,  but  his  mind  was 


MIDNIGHT    MUSINGS.  245 

thoroughly  waked  up.  "  There  now,  I  think  of  it,"  he 
said  aloud,  sitting  up  in  bed,  "  it  isn't  at  all  likely  that 
Hester  heard  me  swear  I  would  '  kill  the  young  one,  if 
it  didn't  stop,  and  its  grandfather,  too/  or  any  of  that 
foolish,  passionate  talk,  for  that  was  before  I  whipped 
her  the  last  time.  I  paid  on  as  if  I  meant  to;  she 
never  could  have  stood  that  —  never ;  she  would  have 
rushed  in  arid  pounced  upon  me,  thinking,  sure  enough, 
I  meant  to  kill  the  child.  Why,  I  had  no  idea  of  doing 
it,  or  of  whipping  her  half  so  hard  as  I  did.  It  was 
provoking  to  have  Ann  say,  '  Kill  'er,  and  done  with 
it ;  you'd  better.  I  shan't  bury  'er,  nor  lie  nuther,  to 
save  yer  neck.'  She  might  have  kept  still.  I  could 
have  wrung  her  neck,  I  was  so  angry.  I  declare  I  be- 
lieve I  should  have  killed  the  baby  if  Hester  hadn't  come. 
But  she  didn't  hear  that  part,  I  know.  What  a  fool 
I  was  to  get  so  frightened  I  I'll  make  her  tell  what 
she  did  hear  before  I  carry  her  home." 

The  night  wore  away  at  last ;  breakfast  was  ready. 

"  I'll  skim  the  milk  while  yer  eatin',"  said  Ann,  "  and 
slip  round  when  I  carry  out  a  panful,  an'  see  if  I  can't 
find  that  are  writin'.  Good  'nuff  for  ye,  if  ye  don't  get 
it ;  ye'd  no  business  to  gi'n  it  to  'er." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Mr.  Giles.  "  That  is  a  bright 
thought,  Ann ;  get  it  if  you  can,  for  I  don't  want  an- 
other fuss  with  her,  and  the  sooner  they're  off,  why,  the 
better,  you  know."  They  called  Hester  ;  but  there  was 
no  answer.  They  tried  the  door  ;  it  was  locked.  They 
called  again,  but  could  get  no  reply. 

"  Both  dead,  likely  as  not,"  muttered  Ann ;  "  a 
pretty  fuss  you've  got  us  into."  Mr.  Giles  stood  aghast. 

"  Sure  enough,"  he  muttered  ;    "  but  I  should  have 


246  HESTEll    STKOXG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

carried  them  off  last  night  only  for  your  interference. 
A  pretty  fuss/'  he  muttered,  "  sure  enough.  Come, 
let's  go  round  and  look  in  at  the  window.  Gone  !  as 
sure  as  — ,"  said  Mason,  "  papers  and  all.  Well,  that  is 
better  than  to  have  them  found  dead  on  my  hands. 
That  old  fox  was  too  much  for  us,  Ann." 

"  Pretty  fuss  you've  got  into,"  was  the  reply.  "  Make 
a  nice  talk  —  won't  it  ?  Hey  ?  Gittin'  out  of  the 
winder  at  the  dead  o'  night,  sick  young  un,  an'  all. 
Good  'nuff  for  ye  ;  ye  needn't  'ave  got  married." 

"  It  was  your  fault,  Ann,"  was  the  angry  reply  ;  "  if 
you  had  minded  your  own  business,  I  should  have  car- 
ried them  off  last  night,  and  you  know  it.  Now,  there  is 
no  telling  what  will  come." 

"  Why,  she'll  say  ye  insulted  'er,  or  threatened  to 
kill  'er,  or  suthin',  pretty  likely.  I  would  if  ye'd  used 
me  so."  Mr.  Giles  raised  his  hand  as  if  about  to  strike  ; 
he  dropped  it  again,  and  strode  off,  saying,  — 

"  That  woman  will  be  the  ruin  of  me  yet." 

"  Strike  an'  ye  dare,"  was  the  mocking  reply.  "  I 
ain't  'fraid  on  ye,  if  Lev  was."  He  turned  in  a  terri- 
ble rage,  and  shook  his  fist  defiantly  at  her. 

"  Ann  Thropee,  if  you  were  a  man,"  he  shouted,  "  I'd 
beat  you  to  death  if  you  didn't  stop  !  Curse  you,  and 
the  laws  too  !  "  The  breakfast  was  eaten  in  silence. 
Mason  scowled  at  Ann.  Ann  scowled  back.  When  it 
was  over,  he  said,  — 

"  Well,  I've  got  her  promise  to  keep  still,  and  if  she 
don't,  why,  she  is  a  liar,  like  the  rest  of  her  sex." 

"  'Elp  yerself  if  ye  can,"  said  Ann.  "Wat  will  ye 
do  'bout  it,  if  she  tells  on't- — hey  ?  " 

"Ann,  hold  your  tongue  —  will  you?     I'll — "     He 


THE    DISCOVERT.  247 

hurried  from  the  room.  Ann  laughed  mockingly,  and 
screamed  after  him. 

"Git  another  'ousekeeper,  an'  ye  will.  I  shan't  stay 
'ere." 

"  Why,  Mason,"  said  Mrs.  Wiley,  on  being  consulted, 
"  I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  known  better. 
What  a  talk  this  will  make  !  Ilester  is  on  good  terms 
with  all  the  first  families  in  the  village.  I  am  sure  I 
don't  know  why,  but  she  is,  though  she  has  got  her 
living  nursing,  and  pretty  likely  sprang  from  some  low 
family.  The  Lowells,  and  Leonards,  and  Trueman's 
think  everything  of  her.  I  am  mortified.  Envena  is 
just  getting  acquainted  with  the  Truemans.  How  could 
you  be  so  thoughtless  ?  " 

"  They  ain't  no  better  'n  other  folks,"  said  Ann,  "  if 
you  do  creep  arter  urn." 

"  About  locking  up  things,"  continued  Mrs.  Wiley, 
"  why,  that  depends  upon  circumstances.  My  husband 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing.  Why  should  he  ?  He 
knows  I  am  capable  of  taking  care  of  them.  About 
Levie,  I  ain't  sure  that  you  were  wrong  there.  She 
hadn't  much  judgment,  I  suppose  ;  she  was  brought  up 
at  school." 

"  Mind  ye  don't  bring  Veene  up  in  the  same  way. 
She  don't  git  a  cent  o'  mine,  if  ye  do.  Leve's  good 
as  you  are,  fur  'z  I  know." 

"  Don't  worry,  Ann  :  Envena  isn't  going  to  school 
always ;  I  mean  she  shall  learn  to  work  by  and  by.  If 
she  makes  as  good  a  housekeeper  as  you  are,  that  will 
do  —  won't  it  ?  Did  you  say  she  got  out  of  the  win- 
dow in  the  night,  and  walked  home  with  that  sick  child 
in  her  arms  ?  Don't  you  suppose  she  called  at  Mr. 
Trueman's  on  her  way  home  ?  " 


248  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  'Ow  do  I  know  'ow  she  got  there  ?  " 

"  Mason,"  said  Mrs.  Wiley,  "  I  tell  you  what  I  would 
do.  I  would  disinherit  that  child;  and  never  let  her  have 
a  cent  of  my  property,  unless  they  would  let  me  manage 
hers.  Why,  it  is  monstrous  to  treat  you  so ;  but  I 
wouldn't  lay  it  to  heart.  Venie  will  be  a  daughter  to 
you  —  won't  you,  Venie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,"  was  the  reply,  as  the  girl  arose,  and 
put  her  arms  around  her  uncle's  neck.  "It  is  too  bad, 
uncle  Mason  ;  but  I  will  come  and  keep  house  for  you, 
when  I  am  old  enough  —  can't  I,  mother?  And  aunt 
Ann  can  live  with  us ;  then  I  shall  be  an  heiress  — 
shan't  I,  uncle  ? "  Mrs.  Wiley  was  chagrined  at  the 
last  remark. 

"  I  see  you  are  thinking  of  self,  as  usual,"  said  Mason, 
who  had  been  a  silent  listener.  "  You  are  like  all  the 
rest  of  them." 

"You  mean  the  Gileses,  I  s'posc,"  said  Ann,  laugh- 
ing. "  It's  my  'pinion  the  Loverings  and  Gileses  are 
'bout  alike." 

"  Come,  don't,  Ann ;  you  know  better,"  said  Mrs.  Wiley. 

"  Why,  daughter,  you  shouldn't  have  said  a  word 
about  the  property,"  she  said,  sorrowfully,  when  they 
were  alone. 

"  I  guess  I  shan't  go  for  anything  else,"  was  the 
reply,  "  and  Ann  is  a  tedious  old  thing.  If  I  thought 
I  shouldn't  get  hers,  I'd  just  leave  off  trying  to  please 
her;  that's  all." 

"  0,  you  will  get  it,  no  doubt,  if  you  are  only  cautious, 
and  uncle's  too,  unless  he  marries  again.  So  be  wise, 
my  dear." 

Mr.   Giles    didn't   feel    very  comfortable    for    several 


CONSCIENCE    DISTURBED.  249 

days.  He  expected  every  one  he  met  to  speak  of 
those  events  about  which  he  could  not  help  thinking. 
He  started  at  the  sound  of  every  carriage,  looked  for 
something  unpleasant  to  take  place,  wished  he  could 
know  where  Hester  was,  and  what  she  was  saying  about 
him,  what  she  really  did  hear,  and  why  she  left  as  she 
did.  AVas  she  afraid  of  foul  play  ? 

"  Well,  I  don't  wonder  at  it,"  he  thought,  "  for  I  did 
show  off,  and  no  mistake  ;  and  Ann  is  a  real  old  Hot- 
tentot. If  I  could  get  Elevia  back,  I'd  treat  her  better ; 
I  declare  I  would.  She  wasn't  so  selfish  as  other  wo- 
men, I  do  believe.  I'd  give  a  dollar  to  know  if  she  has 
heard  about  Unie  ;  but  I  dare  not  go  there.  So  men 
generally  don't  lock  up  provisions.  I  wish  I'd  known 
that  before.  It  is  all  a  sham  about  men  being  the  head 
of  the  family,  and  I  might  as  well  come  under  petticoat 
government  as  other  men.  Elevia  could  manage  as  well 
as  sister  Wiley.  Why  not  ?  She  knows  as  much  as 
two  of  her.  Well,  I  guess  I've  gone  the  length  of  my 
cord,  and  got  brought  up  without  bettering  myself.  But 
if  Hester  Strong  keeps  her  promise,  I'll  believe  in  reli- 
gion, I  declare  I  will."  He  concluded  to  drive  over 
to  Mr.  Trueman's  store,  and  see  how  he  appeared.  "  If 
he  has  heard  anything,  why,  I  shall  know  it.  He  is 
none  of  your  hypocrites,  if  Wiley  does  cull  him  so.  And 
Hester  would  tell  him  before  any  one  else  out  of  the  fam- 
ily, I  am  sure." 

Mr.  Trueman  appeared  just  the  same  as  ever;  he  was  en- 
tirely ignorant  of  the  unhappy  affair.  Mr.  Giles  felt  better. 

"  I  hear  your  wife  is  failing,"  he  said.  "  I  am  sorry. 
She  will  never  be  able  to  go  home  again,  Mr.  Lovering 
tells  me.  It  is  sad." 


250  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  I  fear  not,"  was  the  reply,  spoken  in  a  subdued 
manner. 

"  And  your  child  is  very  sick,  too  —  did  you  know  it? 
It  was  taken  sick  while  on  a  visit  to  the  doctor's  with 
Hester.  She  is  sick,  too." 

"Is  she?  I  hadn't  heard  of  it."  Mr.  Giles  was 
very  much  agitated.  Mr.  Trueman  noticed  it,  and  re- 
marked, — 

"  The  baby,  I  hear,  is  better,  and  Hester,  I  hope, 
will  be  soon.  I  don't  know  what  we  should,  any  of  us, 
do  without  her.  I  have  had  great  reason  to  honor  and 
respect  her,  Mr.  Giles,  as  well  as  yourself."  Mr.  True- 
man was  called  another  way,  much  to  Mr.  Giles'  relief. 
He  felt  satisfied  that  Ilester  had  kept  her  secret  so  far. 

"But  it  will  get  out/'  he  mused.  "There  are  those 
marks.  I  wish  they  were  in  —  If  the  family  keep  still, 
why,  I'll  believe  in  religion.  I  want  to  see  Levie  ;  but 
I  won't  go  there  unless  she  sends  for  me.  If  she  should 
send,  why,  I  will  tell  her  I  am  sorry  for  some  things. 
But  she  needn't  have  felt  so  bad  about  it ;  most 
women  wouldn't'  But  Mr.  Giles  did  not  know  much 
about  women  j  had  not  had  the  best  models  to  study. 


PASSING    EVENTS.  251 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

PASSING  EVENTS.  —  SCENES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

"  WE  live  among  the  dying,  Jennie,"  said  the  doctor, 
as  he  seated  himself  wearily  at  the  breakfast  table. 

"  Who  is  dead,  my  dear  ? "  said  his  wife,  as  she 
ceased  pouring  his  coffee,  and  looked  anxiously  in  his 
face. 

' '  Mr.  Pearsons  and  Patty  Stearns  ;  she  died  at  four 
this  morning." 

"Is  it  possible?"  was  the  reply.  "How  did  she 
seem  in  her  last  moments  ?  " 

"  Calmly  and  serenely  happy.  Poor  old  lady  !  she 
tried  to  doubt  her  acceptance  with  God,  feared  that  her 
peace  was  insensibility,  &c.  '  I  am  such  a  sinner,'  she 
said  often,  '  have  been  so  ungrateful,  so  fault-finding, 
that  it  don't  seem  right  for  me  to  be  so  calm.'  You 
know  she  was  very  familiar  with  the  Scriptures.  Well, 
formerly  she  delighted  to  repeat  those  passages  which 
speak  of  God  as  a  judge,  as  offended  with  the  wicked, 
&c.  ;  but  recently  she  has  repeated  those  which  reveal  the 
other  side  of  the  Divine  nature,  his  mercy,  his  pity,  and 
compassion.  Her  last  moments  were  spent  in  repeating 
that  beautiful  psalm,  'The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  I  shall 
not  want,'  word  for  word,  slowly  and  emphatically,  as 
was  her  custom  when  in  health  ;  particularly  when  she 


252  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

came  to  the  verse,  '  Though  I  walk  through  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil  ;  fur  thou  art 
with  me  ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me.  Won- 
derful, wonderful  ! '  were  her  last  words,  as  she  passed 
from  a  world  of  suffering  to  her  rest  on  high." 

After  a  few  moments'  silence,  Hester,  who  was  still 
something  of  an  invalid,  remarked,  — 

"  Doctor,  I  am  more  and  more  impressed,  the  longer 
I  live,  with  the  responsibility  of  training  children.  Miss 
Patty's  faults  were  very  much  the  result  of  early  train- 
ing. It  is  a  fearful  responsibility  to  take  in  our  own 
strength.' 

"  0,  if  parents  could  realize  their  unfitness  for  such  a 
work  without  religion,"  said  Jennie,  "  how  earnestly 
they  would  seek  the  Lord !  " 

"  Wallace  was  a  great  favorite  with  Miss  Patty,"  said 
the  doctor;  "she  has, willed  him  fifty  dollars." 

"  Why,  has  she  ?  "  said  Hester.  "  The  dear  child 
will  be  so  pleased." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  smiling,  "  he  talks  of  going 
to  college  with  it,  and  says  it  is  all  owing  to  your  Chris- 
tian talk  about  the  sugar,  vinegar,  &c.  He  concluded 
the  poor  old  lady  had  received  a  very  large  portion  of 
vinegar  in  her  life,  and  thought  he  would  use  sugar  pro- 
fusely, I  suppose  ;  for  I  never  saw  a  little  fellow  so 
intent  on  pleasing  another  as  he  was  her,  and  he  suc- 
ceeded, I  think.  She  wanted  him  near  her  all  the 
time." 

Tears  came  into  Hester's  eyes  as  she  remarked,  — 

"  He  is  a  noble,  geuereus  child,  but  rather  impulsive. 
I  hope  he  will  get  an  education  and  do  well  ;  and  I  be- 
lieve he  will.  Your  sister's  faith  will  be  rewarded.  I 


PASSING    EVENTS.  253 

feel  sure  of  it.  Those  children  will,  every  one  of  them, 
be  a  blessing  and  an  honor  to  us.'7 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Gray  brought  his  bride 
home  last  night,"  said  the  doctor.  "  That  is  quite  a 
pleasant  affair  ;  she  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  many  of 
the  neighbors  ;  they  had  a  reception.  Mr.  Gray  was 
regretting  that  you  couldn't  be  there,  Hester.  He  says 
you  were  a  friend  in  need  to  him,  and  he  is  anxious  that 
you  should  renew  your  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Gray." 

"  I  wasn't  much  acquainted,"  said  Hester.  "  I  knew 
her.  I  am  really  glad  for  Mr.  Gray  arid  his  family. 
Have  you  called  there  since  the  house  was  repaired  and 
furnished  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not ;  I  have  noticed  the  improvement 
outside." 

"  Well,  it  is  greater  inside,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  and  I 
heartily  wish  them  much  joy." 

"How  arc  the  children  pleased?"  inquired  Jennie. 
I  should  think  they  would  be  delighted." 

"  I  should,"  said  Hester;  "and  they  are,  all  but 
Hattie.  '"  Poor  child  !  she  has  imbibed  that  unreason- 
able prejadice  against  step-mothers,  and  insists  upon 
going  to  the  factory  again.  My  creed  is  just  this,"  said 
Hester,  earnestly — "  that  if  a  woman  is  fit  to  be  a  mother, 
if  she  is  a  true,  noble  woman,  she  will  make  a  good  step- 
mother ;  otherwise  she  will  not.  It  is  a  difficult  place 
to  occupy,  one  which  needs  judgment  and  tact ;  for  if  a 
woman  has  any  faults,  they  will  show  off  in  that  position 
like  fireworks  in  a  dark  night.  It  is  like  putting  a  black 
patch  on  white  groundwork." 

"  Sometimes  it  is  the  reverse,"  said  the  doctor,  laugh- 
ing ;  "it  is  like  putting  a  white  patch  on  a  dark  back- 


254  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

ground  —  isn't  it  so  ?  For  instance,  when  the  little 
widow  marries  my  father,  which  I  see  by  a  notice  on  the 
church  door  will  happen  before  long." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  both  women.  "  Isn't  it  queer, 
when  Elevia  is  so  low  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it  was  her  wish  that  it  should  be  so.  She 
wants  them  married  in  her  room,  in  the  presence  of  all 
the  children.  It  is  an  odd  notion,  but  she  must  be  grati- 
fied— that  is,  if  she  lives  till  the  time  arrives  ;  and  I 
rather  think  she  may  linger  some  time  longer :  she 
may  not  live  till  then  —  we  can't  tell.  She  is  anxious 
to  see  you  and  baby,  Hester.  I  told  her  I  thought  she 
could  in  a  day  or  two.  I  fear  the  change  in  little  Unie 
will  distress  her.  I  am  glad  there  are  some  more  teeth 
to  lay  it  to  ;  I  can't  help  pitying  Mason,  after  all.  I  met 
him  to-day ;  he  seemed  changed.  He  avoided  rne.  Hes- 
ter, I  wish  you  would  tell  rne  just  what  happened  while 
you  were  there,  and  why  you  left  in  such  a  way." 

"  Well,  I  can't,"  said  Hester;  "there  isn't  much  to  it 
any  way,  only  I  got  sick  and  nervous,  and  felt  as  if  I 
couldn't  stay  ;  and  I  am  glad  I  didn't.  What  should  I 
have  done  without  some  one  to  help  take  care  of  Unie 
for  the  last  few  days  ?  " 

"  Well,  one  thing  is  certain,"  said  Jennie  :  "  he 
whipped  that  infant  shamefully,  for  there  arc  the  marks." 

"  I  don't  deny  that,"  said  Hester  ;  "  but  it  was  before 
I  arrived  there.  Men  have  no  judgment  about  children, 
and  never  ought  to  whip  a  baby.  But  I  pity  Mason, 
myself.  You  know  his  father  is  the  prince  of  tyrants, 
and  his  mother  was  the  queen  of  martyrs.  The  children 
never  knew  that  wives  had  ;uiy  rights,  only  the  right  to 
minister  to  the  wants  of  their  families.  The  sisters  were 


SCENES    AND    INCIDENTS.  255 

all  older,  and  left  home  when  Mason  was  young,  all  ex- 
cept Ann,  his  half-sister." 

"  Such  boys  are  to  be  pitied,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Such  men  always  get  wives  when  they  want  them," 
said  Jennie.  "  I  don't  understand  it." 

"  Did  3'ou  ever  hear  about  his  striking  one  of  the  chil- 
dren with  his  first  wife's  coffin  lid  ?  "  said  Hester. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  he  did — you  needn't  look  so  incredulous. 
The  child  remarked  to  another,  '  I'd  rather  see  mother 
there  than  to  see  father  abusing  her,'  just  as  he  entered 
the  room.  He  seized  the  lid  and  struck  the  child,  and 
would  have  injured  it  had  not  a  neighbor  come  in.  lie 
was  a  man  of  most  ungovernable  passion." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  and  yet  he  has 
had  three  wives.  Perhaps  Ann  is  to  be  pitied,  too." 

"  I  suppose  she  is,"  said  Hester.  "  How  do  Charles 
and  Judith  like  the  new  arrangement  ?  " 

"  0,  pretty  well,  I  should  think.  Judith  is  doing 
nicely  now  ;  she  is  very  kind  to  Elevia.  Charles  talks 
reasonably  about  it ;  he  has  a  kind  heart ;  and  Winnie 
can  scarcely  contain  herself,  she  is  so  pleased.  I  have 
one  more  item  of  news  for  you,  and  then  I  must  go. 
Morgan  has  been  to  father's  and  grandfather's." 

"Why,  you  don't  say  so?"  said  Jennie.  "And 
what  did  he  want  ?  " 

"  He  was  there  yesterday,  and  wanted  money.  He 
says  father  has  cheated  him  out  of  three  thousand  dol- 
lars, or  so." 

Hester  groaned  aloud. 

"  Don't  let  it  trouble  you,  aunt  Hester." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  was  the  reply.     "  I   am   getting 


256  HESTEE    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

weak.  0,  dear,  dear  !  what  a  mortification  he  is  going 
to  be  to  the  children  !  He  was  ragged  and  dirty,  I 
presume  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  saucy,  too.  Father  got  rid  of  him  easily 
enough ;  but  Martha  made  a  great  mistake." 

"  What  did  she  do  ?  "  said  Hester,  eagerly. 

"  0,  nothing,  only  hired  him  to  go  home  ;  gave  him 
three  dollars,  and  he  stumbled  into  Mr.  Trueman's  store, 
and  called  for  rum.  Mr.  Truernan  talked  to  him  faith- 
fully for  drinking  ;  and  when  he  found  out  that  he  was 
Winnie's  father,  he  tried  to  get  him  to  his  house,  that  he 
might  labor  with  him.  He  couldn't,  of  course.  He 
hurried  over  to  Stillman's,  and  got  some,  without  doubt, 
in  some  form  or  other.  That  is  the  last  I  know  of  him. 
That  store  is  a  nuisance." 

"  That  is  what  we  get  for  putting  such  a  man  in  as 
agent  to  sell  liquor,"  said  Hester.  "  Our  new  law  won't 
amount  to  much.  It  is  a  shame  ;  any  toper  can  get  it 
of  him.  He  likes  it  so  well  himself  that  he  won't  deny 
others.  Mr.  Crafty  is  the  man  of  his  counsel.  Edward, 
now  I  think  of  it ;  how  can  you  consistently  give  certifi- 
cates to  such  men  as  Crafty  and  others,  when  you  know 
they  use  it  as  a  beverage,  and  abuse  their  families  ?" 

"  I  don't,"  was  the  emphatic  reply.  "  I  have  given 
but  two  or  three  certificates  since  the  law  was  passed.  I 
have  had  numerous  applications,  made  so  dolefully  many 
times,  that  I  couM  scarcely  help  laughing  outright.  It 
has  been  exceedingly  awkward,  and  really  I  think  I  shall 
lose  some  practice  in  that  way,  but  not  much  that  is  pay- 
ing-. Who  started  that  story  ?  I  should  like  to  have 
Stillman  show  me  one  of  the  certificates  with  my  name 
on  it.  I  shall  look  into  that  matter.  My  name  shan't 
be  used  for  a  cloak  in  such  dirty  business." 


SCENES    AND    INCIDENTS.  257 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
have  been  feeling  grieved  that  you  did  not  stand  by  Mr. 
Trueman.  He  felt  it,  too." 

"  Why,  I  never  thought  of  doing  anything  else.  The 
law  would  have  passed  all  the  same  ;  but  if  he  felt  it  his 
duty  to  advocate  it,  and  sacrifice  custom  by  doing  it, 
why,  I  respect  him  for  it.  He  will  be  the  greatest  loser 
in  town  for  the  present ;  but  eventually  he  will  be  the 
gainer.  Next  year  he  shall  be  agent,  or  I  am  mistaken. 
People  will  sec  by  that  time  that  we  want  a  man  we  can 
trust.  Wife,  patronize  him  all  you  can." 

Hester  bowed  her  head,  and  remained  silent. 

"  What  did  Winnie  say  to  her  father  ?  "  said  Jennie. 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  Mrs.  Payson  said  she  had  a  long 
cry  after  he  left.  But  Sunshine  went  into  a  tempest 
right  off  when  he  called  her  his  little  girl. 

"  '  I  isn't  your  ;ittle  did  ;  I  spects  I's  auntie's  Sun- 
shine, I  is.  Go  away,  naughty  man ;  I  isn't  your  'ittle 
dirl.'  He  didn't  seem  to  realize  that  Fostina  was  his 
child  at  all." 

"  I  am  thankful  for  that,"  said  Hester.  "  I  sec  that 
I  must  gird  myself  for  another  conflict.  I  thought,  when 
I  brought  Unie  home,  that  the  last  foe  had  been  con- 
quered ;  but  I  was  mistaken,  you  see,  for  I  am  deter- 
mined that  he  shan't  torment  those  children.  I  must  pi 
home  to-morrow  ;  perhaps  I  shall  gain  faster  with  the 
harness  on.  Martha,  the  dear  girl,  did  a  foolish  thing 
when  she  gave  him  money.  I  shall  have  to  fight  all  the 
harder.  0,  well  !  '  As  thy  day,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be.'  " 

11 


258  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE   WORK. 


CHAPTER     XXVIII. 

ABOUT  HESTER'S  CALL.  —  WINNIE'S  TALK,  AND  GRANDPA'S 
WEDDING. 

HESTER  called  to  see  Elevia  on  her  way  home.  She 
had  not  changed  much,  and  seemed  very  happy.  Provi- 
dentially, little  Unie  brightened  up  during  their  call. 

"  She  will  be  better  soon,"  said  Hester  ;  "  she  has 
two  new  teeth,  the  darling !  " 

"  But  the  care  of  her  is  wearing  you  out,  auntie," 
said  the  mother.  "  Can't  you  get  some  one  to  help  you  ? 
You  said  you  would.  Lay  her  beside  mamma.  Darling, 
precious  one !  mamma's  birdie !  0,  how  much  your 
poor  father  is  losing  in  not  loving  you  better,  little 
one  !  I  want  to  save  him.  I  wish  his  eyes  could  be 
opened.  Hester,  I  think  if  I  had  been  a  Christian, 
trusting  in  Christ,  I  might  have  shown  him  his  errors. 
Won't  you  try  when  I  am  gone  ?  I  regret  that  he  can- 
not have  Unie.  If  Ann  were  like  you,  I  should  want 
her  to  go  there,  but  he  wouldn't  be  willing  she  should 
have  the  care  of  her,  if  I  was.  And  I,  0,  I  couldn't 
leave  the  little  thing  with  her,  she  is  so  soured  !  Ma- 
son didn't  have  much  to  improve  him  at  home  —  did  he, 
auntie?.  lie  has  a  very  low  estimate  of  female  char- 
acter. He  respects  you,  though,  and  you  might  do  him 
good."  Hester  remained  quiet,  thinking  of  what  had 
passed  during  the  last  week  or  two,  and  rejoicing  that 
Ll'-via  was  in  blis.si'ul  ignorance  of  it. 


ABOUT    HESTER'S    CALL.  259 

"  The  Lord  helping  me,  I  will  try,"  was  the  low 
response. 

"  The  dear  Lord  and  Master  reward  you,  Hester,"  she 
said,  taking  her  broad  palm  in  her  own,  so  pale  and  thin. 
"  The  dear  Lord  reward  and  bless  you  for  all  your  kind- 
ness to  me  and  those  dear  to  me.  Come  and  see  me  as 
often  as  you  can.  Only  for  Unie,  I  should  be  selfish, 
and  want  you  all  the  time  I  stay  here."  Winnie  fol- 
lowed her  aunt  from  the  room,  and,  as  soon  as  they  were 
alone,  she  said,  — 

"  lie  has  been  here,  auntie  ;  my  father  has  been  here. 
0,  it  is  awful  !  He  don't  look  as  he  did.  He  wanted 
rum.  He  asked  me  to  get  him  some  ;  said  he  was  sick. 
I  can  never,  never  be  happy  any  more ! "  she  cried. 
"  lie  will  come  again,  some  time,  I  am  afraid." 

"I  guess  not,  dear,"  said  Hester ;  "  and  if  he  does, 
will  that  destroy  all  your  comfort  ?  Won't  Jesus  re- 
main the  same,  dear  ?  Can't  you  rejoice  in  him  ?  " 

"  I  could,  if  I  didn't  rebel  so.  But  when  I  don't  feel 
willing  to  have  things  as  they  are,  and  want  my  own 
way,  I  think  Jesus  is  displeased  and  grieved,  for  he 
seems  farther  off,  and  I  arn  so  unhappy." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Hester,  "  ought  you  to  be  un- 
happy all  the  time  because  God  has  taken  away  one  tenth 
of.  your  earthly  good  ?  He  has  left  you  nine  tenths  — 
ought  you  not  to  enjoy  that?" 

"  Yes,  auntie,  I  know  I  should,  and  I  will  try," 
sobbed  the  child.  "  But  isn't  my  father  a  pretty  large 
tenth,  auntie  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  a  little  girl  with  a 
good,  kind  father  ought  to  be  very  happy  all  the  time. 
Only  think!  He  came  with  his  old,  every-day  clothes 
on,  and  I  gness  aunt  Abigail  and  grandmother  don't 


260  HESTEE    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

mend  them,  as  mother  did.  And  he  talked  so,  right  be- 
fore Mrs.  Payson  !  and  he  says  I  am  to  go  to  the  factory, 
and  earn  something  for  him,  instead  of  working  here  for 
nothing.  Mrs.  Payson  told  him,  '  For  shame  ! '  to  talk 
about  a  frail  child  like  me  supporting  a  great,  stout 
man  like  him.  She  told  him  he  ought  to  work  and  sup- 
port his  children.  He  said  he  was  sick,  and  looked  ter- 
rible angry.  But,  auntie,  I  haven't  told  you  the  worst/' 
said  Winnie,  going  close  to  Hester.  "  Uncle  Charles 
gave  him  a  glass  of  bitters,  and  there  is  a  good  lot  of 
rum  in  them.  He  used  to  give  him  some  when  mamma 
was  alive,  and  make  her  cry.  And  when  she  would 
ask  father  not  to  drink,  he  used  to  say  he  was  no  worse 
than  the  parson,  and.  her  father  and  brothers.  That 
always  made  mamma  cry,  and  she  used  to  say  she  was 
sorry  they  drank,  for  it  was  bad  to  drink  ever  so  little, 
for  fear  they  might  drink  more  some  time  ;  and  grandpa 
don't  now." 

"  Uncle  Frank  and  uncle  Edward  don't  drink  a  drop," 
said  Hester;  "and  I  hope  uncle  Charles  will  leave  off 
soon.  It  was  wrong  for  him  to  give  it  to  your  father. 
Winnie,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  ask  him  not  to  drink  it, 
nor  give  your  poor  father  any.  Tell  him  what  you  have 
just  told  me  about  it.  Perhaps  you  can  help  along  the 
glorious  cause  of  Temperance.  You  ought  to  be  grate- 
ful to  God  for  sending  Wallace  where  he  will  not  be 
tempted  in  that  direction.  He  has  signed  the  pledge  — 
did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"No,  auntie  —  has  he?  Can't  I  sign?  I  want  to. 
Then  I  can  have  a  better  chance  to  talk  to  others." 

"  Why,  yes,  dear,  you  can  sign  the  pledge.  -  But  auntie 
must  go  now.  Don't  trouble  your  little  head,  darling, 


GRANDPA'S    WEDDING.  261 

about  the  factory.  You  arc  my  little  girl.  I  have  got 
you  all  in  black  and  white  now.  You  are  to  go  to 
school,  if  nothing  prevents,  and  prepare  yourself  to 
teach,  or  be  useful  in  some  other  way." 

Mr.  Lovering's  wedding  took  place  in  Elevia's  sick 
room,  very  quietly.  It  was  a  solemn  occasion.  Broth- 
ers and  sisters  stepped  softly,  ay,  reverently,  into  the 
presence  of  one  apparently  so  near  the  eternal  gate. 
The  ceremony  was  performed  by  the  aged  pastor,  whose 
white  locks  fell  gracefully  back  from  his  noble  brow. 
ILis  voice  faltered  as  he  said,  "  What  God  hath  joined 
together  let  not  man  put  asunder,"  for  he  remembered 
the  past.  It  had  been  his  privilege  to  unite  both  bride 
and  bridegroom  in  their  former  marriages.  He  had  also 
married  several  members  of  the  family.  He  thought 
of  Elevia's  joyous  wedding  festival.  Only  a  few  short 
years  had  passed,  and  what  a  change !  When  it  was 
all  over,  Mr.  Lovering  stepped  to  his  daughter's  bed- 
side, and  said,  — 

"  Are  you  tired,  dear  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  was  the  reply.  "  May  God  bless  you, 
my  dear  parents,  and  make  you  a  blessing  to  each  other 
and  the  world."  Mrs.  Lovering  stooped  and  kissed  the 
cheek  of  the  sufferer. 

"  Raise  me  up,  dear  mother.  I  have  something  which 
I  wish  to  say  to  you,  while  you  are  all  together. 

'  I  am  going  home  to  heaven  above  : 
Will  you  go  ?  —  will  you  go  ?  ' " 

She  said,  earnestly,  looking  from  one  to  the  other, 
"  0,  will  you  go?"  She  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  a 

reply. 


262  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  I  will  try,  I  will  try,"  passed  from  one  to  the  other, 
until  all  had  promised.  She  smiled  contentedly. 

"  That  promise  is  registered  in  the  book  on  high," 
said  the  aged  pastor.  "0,  keep  it,  my  dear  friends ; 
keep  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Elevia,  "  I  expect  you  to  keep  it,  and 
God  expects  it.  But  those  of  you  who  are  out  of 
Christ,  don't  wait  until  death  calls  you,  or  until  earthly 
pleasures  fade,  and  life  grows  dark  ;  but  come  to  Jesus. 
Now  is  the  accepted  time.  Don't  do  as  I  did, — you 
know  it  all,  —  but  come  while  in  health  and  strength. 
Little  Winnie,  tell  them  what  Jesus  is  to  you." 

"He  is  precious,"  said  the  child,  folding  her  hands, 
"  and  very  lovely." 

"  Is  he  always  near  you  ? "  said  the  aged  pastor, 
placing  his  hand  on  her  head. 

"  He  never  leaves  me,"  was  the  reply.  "  Sometimes 
I  wander  away  from  him,  and  get  lost ;  but  he  never 
leaves  me.  He  has  said  he  wouldn't ;  don't  you  re- 
member it  ?  'I  will  never  leave  nor  forsake  thee.'  ; 

"  How  do  you  feel  when  you  get  lost,  little  pilgrim  ?  " 
said  the  pastor,  patting  her  tenderly  on  the  head. 

"  0,  sorry  and  frightened  ;  and  I  just  run  back  as  fast 
as  I  can,  saying,  — 


'  Jesus,  Lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly.'  " 


"  I  trust  you  are,  indeed,  a  lamb  of  his  flock,"  was  the 
reply.  "Should  you  like  to  confess  Christ  before  the 
world  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  should,  when  I  am  good  enough.  I 
should  like  to  tell  the  whole  world  how  good  he  is,  and 
what  he  has  done  for  me." 


GRANDPA'S    WEDDING.  263 

"  I  think  we  had  better  retire,"  said  Mr.  Lovcring. 
"  I  fear  Levie  is  overdoing." 

"  One  thing  more,  father,  and  then  you  may  go.  I 
want  you  all,  every  one  of  you,  to  forgive  Mason.  He 
does  riot  know  how  he  has  wronged  me.  Forgive  him, 
and  try  to  bring  him  to  Christ.  0,  treat  him  kindly, 
and  teach  him  the  living  way.  To-morrow,  when  I  am 
rested,  I  want  to  see  him.  You  will  riot  deny  me  ?  " 
she  said,  as  she  saw  them  look  from  one  to  another. 
This  was  a  hard  thing  to  ask  of  them  ;  bat  they  could 
deny  her  nothing.  "  Thank  you,"  she  said,  as  they 
promised.  '  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  ob- 
tain mercy.'  If  God  can  forgive  us,  for  Christ's  sake, 
ought  we  not  to  forgive  each  other  ?  I  have  but  one 
other  duty  to  do,  and  then  I  am  ready  to  go,  if  it  be 
God's  will.  Pray  for  me,  dear  brothers  and  sisters,  that 
I  may  prevail,  that  my  faith  fail  not.  Dear  pastor,  pray 
for  me  and  him.  Good  by." 


264  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER     XXIX. 

SELF-COMMUNINGS.  —  THE   STILL  SHALL  VOICE.  —  LIGHT  IN 
DARKNESS. 

"How  cheerless  and  dreary  this  house  has  become," 
sighed  Mr.  Giles,  "  since  Elevia  left  it  1  Why,  it  seems 
like  a  tomb.  I  wonder  that  I  could  ever  have  com- 
plained of  her  housekeeping.  It  was  perfect,  compared 
with  Ann's,  and  her  food  delicious  —  better  than  sister 
Wiley's.  I  never  thought  of  it  till  lately.  If  she  had 
only  submitted  without  arguing,  as  a  woman  ought,  why, 
we  should  have  been  happy.  Heigh-ho  !  I  wonder  if  I 
have  been  exacting.  Mr.  Levering  and  the  doctor  said 
1  had,  and  that  no  mortal  man,  in  bis  senses,  ought  to 
expect  a  woman  to  put  up  with  such  tyranny  and  miserly 
meanness.  Yes,  those  were  their  very  words.  They 
said  I  was  a  chip  of  the  old  block.  .  How  that  cut  me  1 
For  I  confess  father  is  a  tyrant  of  the  deepest  dye  to 
wife,  children,  and  all.  Poor  Ann  was  his  special  aver- 
sion. Heigh-ho  !  I  wonder  if  I  haven't  copied  him, 
after  all  ?  Pshaw !  I  never  struck  Elevia.  I'm  not 
sure  I  shouldn't,  though,  but  for  fear  of  the  family.  I 
have  wanted  to  ;  but  Elevia  always  seemed  so  superior  to 
other  women,  I  mean  Lucy,  and  Jane,  and  Ann.  I  know 
but  little  about  females  at  large  ;  I  never  thought  them 
worth  much  notice." 

Thus  thought  Mason  Giles  as  he  walked  his  room  late 


SELF-COMMUNINGS.  2G5 

at  night.  His  nights  had  been  nearly  sleepless  since  the 
one  he  remembered  as  "  the  terrible  night."  lie  was 
striving  to  solve  a  serious  problem  —  he  was  searching 
for  the  truth.  The  pale,  beautiful  face  of  his  wife 
haunted  him  day  and  night,  as  she  looked  when  she  said, 
"  I  may  have  been  a  poor  wife  to  you,  Mason  ;  for- 
give me.  I  tried  to  please  you."  Conscience  echoed, 
"  She  did  try  to  please  you,  with  a  devotion  few  wives 
could  command."  He  seemed  struggling  to  throw  off 
these  unpleasant  convictions  ;  but  in  vain.  He  trembled 
when  he  thought  how  nearly  he  had  added  the  crime  of 
murder  to  his  other  sins.  Strangely  enough,  as  he 
thought  of  little  Unie,  struggling  in  his  arms,  shrinking 
away,  and  screaming  as  if  in  great  pain,  his  feelings 
softened  towards  her.  0,  was  it  fear  and  grief,  and  not 
stubbornness  ?  as  he  had  thought.  "  Poor  little  thing  !  " 
he  murmured,  walking  rapidly  up  and  down  the  room. 
"  Such  a  baby  !  How  could  I  handle  her  so  roughly  ! 
I  was  mad  with  them,  and  spent  my  wrath  on  a  helpless 
baby  —  my  baby  —  bone  of  my  bone  and  flesh  of  my 
flesh.  Cowardly  man  !  I  hate  myself  for  it.  0,  if  I 
had  killed  her  !  I  felt  as  if  I  should  like  to  do  it.  I 
thank  God  I  was  kept  from  dashing  the  little  head  on  the 
floor.  I  fear  I  should  if  Hester  hadn't  rescued  her.  I 
thought  she  was  defying  me,  resisting  my  will.  For  the- 
first  time  in  my  life,  I  do  feel  truly  thankful  to  God. 
When  Elevia  spoke  in  that  way,  how  angry  I  used  to 
feel !  I  thought  I  was  my  own  keeper  ;  I  gloried  in  my 
own  strength.  '  What  had  I  that  I  did  not  get  ?  '  I 
often  inquired  of  her.  '  Mason,'  she  would  say,  '  God 
gives  you  the  ability,  the  strength,  and  the  opportunity 
to  do  everything.  Without  him  you  could  do  nothing.' 


266  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

I  think  now  she  was  right.  0  God,"  ho  groaned, 
"  what  a  miserable  sinner  I  am,  when  I  thought  I  was 
about  right !  Self-deceived  and  ruined  for  time  and 
eternity  !  0,  I  dare  not  think  of  meeting  God  !  And 
yet  Elevia  is  as  peaceful  as  a  lamb,  and  really  looks 
more  cheerful  than  she  has  for  a  long  time.  Strange, 
strange  !  I  should  be  in  an  agony  if  I  thought  death 
was  near." 

He  threw  himself  heedlessly  on  the  unopened  bed,  and 
wept  for  the  first  time  since  a  child.  Then  said  he, 
resolutely,  — 

"  What  a  fool  I  am  !  I  am  no  worse  than  many  others, 
I  suppose.  I  wonder  what  there  is  in  the  chapter  about 
'  Wives,  submit  yourselves.'  Hester  wanted  me  to  read 
it.  She  is  a  Christian,  I  declare,  or  she  would  have  told 
of  me.  And  what  else  but  religion  could  induce  her  to 
spend  her  life  taking  care  of  other  people's  children  — 
mine,  for  instance  —  and  for  nothing?  How  that  child 
loves  her  !  How  safe  she  felt  in  her  arms  !  Why  should 
she  follow  it,  and  walk,  too  ?  That  is  the  mystery. 
Yes,  I  do  believe  in  religion.  It  is  that  which  sustains 
Elevia  now,  that  which  makes  Winnie  so  different  from 
Envena.  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  impatiently,  '/  it  is  that 
which  makes  them  so  different  from  me,  wretch  that  I 
am.  I  might  have  been  happy  with  my  wife  but  for 
this  hateful  disposition  of  mine.  But  I  have  driven  my 
wife  and  child  away  from  me,  if  not  killed  them  both  ; 
and  now  my  house  is  a  tomb,  and  my  soul  a  whited 
sepulchre.  I  am  a  '  hissing  arid  a  by-word.'  0  God, 
have  mercy,  have  mercy  !  I  can't  bear  this  misery  ;  my 
sins  have  found  me  out,  and  they  are  enough  to  sink  me 
down  to  hell." 


SELF-COMMUNINGS.  26t 

lie  shuddered,  and,  pressing  his  open  palms  close  to 
his  face,  remained  silent  a  moment.  He  then  opened 
Elevia's  Bible,  which  he  had  never  looked  into  before, 
and  read,  "  To  my  dear  daughter  Elevia,  on  her  wed- 
ding day." 

He  then  read  the  chapter  named  before,  and  found,  to 
his  great  mortification,  how  far  short  he  had  come  of 
doing  his  part  in  the  marriage  relation,  lie  read  on, 
turning  from  place  to  place,  like  a  weary,  discontented 
child.  ITis  eye  fell  upon  the  parable  of  the  returning 
prodigal.  "  That  I  can't  do,"  he  mused ;  "  I  can't 
go  to  her.  Haven't  I  said  I  wouldn't  ?  Haven't  I  said 
it  ?  No,  I  won't  go  near  them  ;  I'll  fight  it  out  alone. 
I  have  been  a  wicked,  foolish  man  ;  but  I  won't  own  it 
to  them.  If  Elevia's  mother  were  alive,  I  could  confess 
it  all  to  her.  She  was  a  saint,  if  there  ever  was  one  this 
side  of  heaven.  I  must  sleep.  Ann  never  will  learn  to 
make  my  tea  weaker." 

Thus  this  night  also  wore  away ;  but  little  sleep 
came  to  refresh  Mr.  Giles.  It  was  the  night  after  tho 
wedding.  Never  had  he  known  a  more  cheerless  one. 
He  arose  looking  so  pale  and  haggard  that  Ann  was 
moved  to  say,  — 

"  Sick  ?  "  as  he  arose  from  a  scarcely  tasted  break- 
fast. "  Why  don't  ye  eat  suthin',  or  fret,  as  ye  did  to 
Lev  ?  'Fraid  to  —  ain't  ye  ?  Ye  needn't  be,"  she  con- 
tinued ;  "I'd  rather  ye'd  fret  than  die." 

"Ann,  let  me  alone  —  won't  you?  I  ain't  sick," 
'was  his  only  reply. 

"  Yes,  I'll  let  yc  alone,  an'  yer  work  too,  an'  ye  like. 
I  shan't  keep  'ouse  for  a  ghost  much  longer,"  muttered 
Ann. 


268  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Well,  Ann,  you  keep  still  ;  I'll  bo  all  right  soon. 
You  make  my  tea  too  strong;  I  can't  sleep — that's 
all."  He  left  the  room  without  further  delay.  "  Misera- 
ble  man  !"  he  thought,  as  he  tried  to  busy  himself  about 
the  place.  "  I  can't  set  myself  to  work.  Why,  I  miss 
her.  How  neat  she  always  looked,  and  the  table,  and 
the  house  !  But  I  didn't  know  it.  Well,  the  Scripture 
is  true  — '  His  house  shall  be  left  desolate  : '  that  is 
something  like  it,  and  it  is  true.  I  almost  wish  it  was 
burned  down.  It  reminds  me  so  much  of  what  I  might 
have  enjoyed.  0  God  !  it  is  gone,  all  gone  ;  hence- 
forth there  is  nothing  but  sorrow  and  darkness  for  me, 
and  I  deserve  it  all  —  all,  and  more,  too,"  he  groaned. 
"  0,  I  wish  I  could  see  Elevia  once  more." 

That  was  indeed  a  prayer,  and  it  was  heard  arid  an- 
swered almost  as  soon  as  it  was  uttered. 

Let  us  return  to  grandpa  Lovering's,  and  see  what  has 
been  transpiring  there  on  this  eventful  night. 

When  the  company  reached  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Lovering 
said,  "  Mr.  Lovejoy,  stop  and  pray  for  her  here.  If  the 
dear  child  could  see  her  husband  converted,  why,  it 
would  almost  save  her  life.  I  can't  bear  to  see  her  so 
distressed  about  him.  That  is  the  only  thing  which 
troubles  her." 

"  I  will,"  was  the  reply ;  "  and  as  she  is  wishing  to 
see  him  to-morrow,  I  will  make  it  a  subject  of  special 
pleading  that  the  desire  of  her  heart  may  be  granted." 

Earnestly  and  tenderly  the  case  was  presented  at  the 
throne  of  grace,  with  an  importunity  which  seemed  to 
admit  of  no  denial.  Tears  came  to  every  eye. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  depend  upon  my  poor  prayers," 
said  the  pastor  ;  "  but  pray,  as  did  the  Master,  all  night. 


TUE    STILL    SMALL    VOICE.  269 

If  no  answer  of  peace  and  promise  come,  pray  till  the 
morning.  I  feel  the  inspiration  of  prayer  as  I  seldom  do 
when  no  favorable  answer  is  to  be  given.  Lay  hold  on 
the  mighty  arm  of  God,  my  friends,  wrestle  as  did  Jacob 
of  old,  and  God  will  bring  it  to  pass.  "  The  joy  of  his 
salvation"  might  save  your  daughter.  If  I  sec  aright,  it 
is  hope  deferred,  or  wounded  affection  that  has  prostrated 
her.  Am  I  right  ?  Could  she  see  her  husband  clothed 
in  Christ's  righteousness,  a  new  creature  in  him,  with 
affections  purified  and  elevated,  it  would,  perhaps,  prove 
an  elixir  of  life  more  potent  than  all  your  efforts  to  save 
her  ;  better  for  her  than  any  remedy  prepared  by  the 
most  skilful  practitioner,  for  '  a  wounded  spirit  who  can 
bear  ? '  " 

"  She  cannot  recover,"  was  the  united  voice  of  father, 
brothers,  and  sisters ;  but  Winnie  caught  at  the  idea 
with  the  utmost  tenacity. 

"  It  won't  do  her  any  harm,"  said  Mrs.  Levering  ; 
"  let  us  pray  —  all  of  us.  If  the  blessed  child  can  only 
see  him  converted,  she  will  die  easier  ;  that  will  be  a 
comfort." 

Winnie  crept  away  to  her  little  closet,  and  kneeling, 
said,  tearfully,  — 

"  Dearest  Lord,  I  shall  stay  here  until  you  tell  rno 
what  you  will  do  about  uncle  Mason,  unless  they  call 
me.  Blessed  Spirit,  help  me,  for  I  don't  know  how  to 
wrestle,  nor  'lay  hold  by  faith.'  Help  me,  for  I  want 
my  uncle  Mason  converted.  I  want  you  to  make  him 
sorry,  0,  so  sorry,  that  he  can't  help  asking  to  be  for- 
given, and  then,  dear  God,  forgive  him.  0,  do,  do, 
Lord.  Please  to  save  him,  and  make  auntie  so  happy 
that  nhe  will  want  to  live  ;  and  then  make  her  well,  BO 


270  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

that  little  Unre  can  have  her  mother  to  love,  for  that  is 
better,  0,  so  ranch  better,  than  anything.  0,  make  her 
well,  so  that  she  can  live  in  her  nice  new  house,  and  be 
happy  with  uncle  and  all  of  us.  Dear  Lord,  I  don't  know 
how  to  tell  you  what  I  want,  but  the  blessed  Holy  Spirit 
knows  all  about  it.  lie  sees  that  I  want  my  uncle  Ma- 
son to  come  to  Jesus  and  see,  as  that  other  blind  man 
did.  Auntie  said,  '  0  that  he  could  see  ! '  Make  him 
see,  Lord  ;  don't  let  him  go,  but  make  him  see  and  be- 
lieve in  Jesus." 

Thus  the  child  prayed  on,  weeping,  and  asking  over 
and  over  again,  until,  weary,  she  paused  in  her  prayer, 
saying,  — 

"  I  can't  say  any  more  about  it  now,  dear  Jesus : 
won't  you  see  to  him  ? "  and  dropped  asleep. 

Mrs.  Lovering  looked  into  the  child's  room,  and  found 
her  there,  still  upon  her  knees  —  her  head  resting  on  the 
hard  stool  —  her  cheek  still  wet  with  tears. 

"  The  spirit  was  willing,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Lovering, 
"  but  the  flesh  was  weak.  Just  you  come  and  see  a  sight 
you  may  never  in  your  life  see  again." 

"  The  dear  child  has  been  wrestling,"  said  grandpa, 
as  he  raised  her  carefully  in  his  arms  and  laid  her  on  the 
bed.  She  roused  a  little,  and  murmured,  "  Dear  Jesus, 
don't  let  him  go." 

"  What  if  she  has  prevailed  !  "  said  grandpa,  looking 
at  his  wife. 

"  What  if  she  has  ?  "  was  the  reply  —  "  why,  we  will 
thank  the  Lord,  to  be  sure.  But  it  can't  be  ;  it  seems 
impossible  that  he  should  be  converted." 

"Nothing  is  impossible  with  God;  otherwise  I  should 
think  him  given  over,"  said  Mr.  Lovering.  "  But  that 


THE    STILL    SMALL    VOICE.  271 

child's  zeal  for  God  shames  me,  Lizzie.  She  will  far 
outstrip  us  in  the  Christian  race,  if  we  don't  wake  up." 

"  I  know  it,"  was  the  reply  ;  "it  is  high  time  we  were 
up  and  doing.  And  now,  my  dear,  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  I  think  one  stumbling-block  is  taken  out  of  the  way, 
and  we  can  run  the  race  more  swiftly.  I  mean  the  ban- 
ishment of  all  kinds  of  spirits  as  a  beverage.  Now,  I 
think  the  blessed  Holy  Spirit  don't  want  to  live  in  the 
same  place  with  one  of  Satan's  engines  of  swift  destruc- 
tion —  don't  you  think  so  ?  I  think  the  church  ought 
to  arise,  and  shake  herself  clear  of  that  sin  ;  and  she  will 
have  to  before  the  gospel  will  run  and  be  glorified." 

"  Yes,  I  think  we  have  been  blind  in  that  regard  — 
wilfully  so,  I  fear,  1  am  determined  to  clear  my  skirts 
of  that  sin  ;  but  I  am  afraid  I  have  waked  up  too  late  to 
save  Charles.  He  thinks  he  can't  work  without  it." 

"  I  should  think  he  saw  a  living  epistle  of  the  effects 
of  it  when  Morgan  was  here,"  said  Mrs.  Loveriug ; 
"  how  he  has  changed  !  " 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  noble  fellow.  It  pains  me  to  think 
how  often  he  has  taken  a  social  glass  with  me,"  said  her 
husband.  "  He  has  fallen  low  enough,  while  I  am  saved. 
By  .the  blessing  of  God  I  am  what  I  am  ;  and  by  the 
same  power  I  mean  to  be  more  consistent." 

"  I  am  glad  you  feel  so,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  feel  just 
so,  too.  But  you  must  go  to  sleep,  or  you  will  be  sick, 
as  sure  as  can  be." 

"  Why,  how  came  I  in  bed  with  my  clothes  on  ?  " 
thought  Winnie.  "  I  must  have  got  up  in  my  sleep,  and 
put  tlicm  on.  I  am  glad  I  went  to  bed  again,  and  didn't 
get  out  of  the  window,  or  ixiiything.  I  wonder  if  grand- 


272  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

pa  will  let  me  go  with  him  to  tell  uncle  Mason.  I  almost 
love  him  now.  I  guess  it  won't  bo  so  hard  to  love  him 
as  I  thought  it  would.  For  her  sake,"  she  said,  "  I  must 
love  him,  and  for  Christ's  sake,  forgive  him  ;  that  is  it. 
Mrs.  Payson  —  0,  no  !  I  forgot  —  grandmother,  can  I  go 
with  grandpa  ?  I  want  to  tell  uncle  Mason  something." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  guess  so.  I'll  ask  him.  You  look  pale  : 
are  you  well  ?  " 

"  0,  yes,  indeed  ;  I  feel  nicely  :  my  heart  is  as  light  as 
can  be.  I  guess  lie  is  going  to  save  him,  —  uncle  Mason 
I  mean,  —  and  perhaps  auntie  will  live,  after  all.  Do 
people  ever  get  well  when  the  doctor  says  they  can't, 
grandma  ?  I  shall  speak  to  you  pretty  often,  now  I  can 
call  you  that,"  she  said,  smiling  brightly. 

"  Do  ;  I  like  to  have  you.  I  never  had  a  grandchild 
of  my  own." 

"  Well,  you  have  got  some  own  children,  and  grand- 
children too,  now  —  haven't  you,  grandmother  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  hope  they  will. own  me.  And  I  am  pretty 
sure  folks  get  well,  sometimes,  when  the  doctors  say  they 
can't,  and  die,  too,  when  they  say  they  won't.  0,  I 
know  that  too  well,"  she  said,  sadly.  "  They  said  my 
Lizzie  was  in  no  danger,  and  my  Lydia  might  get  well ; 
but  they  died,  both  of  them.  And  there  was  my  Samuel; 
he  lay  in  a  d}ring  condition  three  days,  with  the  fever  ; 
but  he  got  well,  and  is  married,  you  know  :  so  we  can't 
tell." 

Winnie  was  allowed  to  accompany  her  grandfather, 
and  found  her  uncle  just  as  he  had  uttered  the  wish 
that  was  a  prayer  wrung  from  an  awakened  heart. 

"  Uncle  Mason,"  she  said,  running  eagerly  to  his  side, 
"  Cume  ;  auntie  wants  you.  Grandpa  and  I  have  come 


THE    STILL    SMALL    VOICE.  273 

for  you.  He  was  married  last  night ;  and  we  are  all 
going  to  love  you  now  :  auntie  made  us  promise.  She 
said  you  didn't  mean  to  make  her  sick ;  you  didn't  know 
how  she  felt.  0,  you  are  feeling  badly  ;  well  —  I  am 
glad  —  no,  I  mean  I  hope  you  will  be  better." 

He  had  stood  half  bewildered  while  Winnie  was  talking. 

"  She  wants  me  —  she  wants  them  to  forgive  me,"  he 
mused.  A  little  while  since,  and  he  would  have  been 
angry  ;  but  now  he  is  humbled.  "  Winnie,"  he  said,  as 
he  sat  upon  a  log,  "  I  do  feel  badly.  I  am  a  wretched 
man.  Your  aunt  is  going  to  die,"  —  he  shuddered,  — 
"  and  I  know,  now,  that  I  killed  her  ;  yes,  killed  her 
slowly.  You  know  how  hard  and  unfeeling  I  was  ;  and 
when  she  felt  badly,  I  thought  she  was  foolish,  and  I  was 
angry.  I  believe  I  was  possessed.  What  do  I  care  for 
that  pile  of  fine  buildings,  now,  child  ?  "  he  said,  fiercely. 
"  They  were  my  gods.  I  thought  your  aunt  ought  to  be 
happy  in  such  a  place.  Now  I  have  learned  their  value. 
I  live  here,  but  I  am  not  happy,  and  never  can  be  again." 

He  covered  his  face  and  groaned.  Winnie  felt  fright- 
ened. 

"  0,  I  didn't  want  him  to  feel  so  dreadfully,"  she 
thought.  "  Dear  Lord,  help  him  to  see  the  other  side. 
0,  do  !  "  .  Tears  came  into  her  eyes.  "  I  wish  aunt  Hes- 
ter was  here,"  she  said.  "  She  would  tell  you  about  the 
goodness  of  God,  and  how  you  must  go  to  him  and  con- 
fess your  sins,  and  he  would  forgive  you  for  Christ's 
sake.  I  asked  him,  and  he  forgave  my  sins." 

"  You,  Winnie,"  he  said,  "  you  have  sins  ?  What  were 
they  '{  It  wasn't  much  to  forgive  your  sins  ;  they  were 
nothing  compared  with  mine." 

"  0,  well,  that  don't  make   a  bit  of  difference  ;  we 
18 


214  HESTKH    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

can't  go  to  heaven  without  a  new  heart,  and  God  can 
forgive  a  great  sinner  just  as  well  as  he  can  a  little  one. 
But  I  was  a  dreadful  sinner,  uncle.  I  didn't  love  God, 
and  I  didn't  want  to  stay  where  he  put  me.  0, 1  was  as 
bad  as  you.  But  my  verse  says,  '  Though  your  sins  be 
as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow.'  I  repented, 
and  he  forgave  me  all.  He  gave  me  peace  when  I  be- 
lieved on  his  Son  Jesus  Christ ;  and  now  I  feel  happy, 
almost  always." 

Mr.  Giles  had  raised  his  head  and  listened. 

"  Winnie,"  he  said,  "  do  you  think  that  I  could  be 
happy  —  even  if  rny  sins  were  forgiven  —  after  I  had 
killed  my  wife,  and  done  so  wickedly  ?  No,  never  ! 
You  hadn't  much  to  forgive,"  he  said,  almost  savagely. 
"  I  tell  you  my  sins  can't  be  blotted  out  in  a  lifetime, 
no,  nor  through  all  eternity.  Lost !  lost !  "  he  cried, 
bitterly  ;  "  sold  unto  sin." 

•  Winnie  went  close  up  to  the  unhappy  man,  her  fear  all 
gone,  and  laying  her  hand  on  his,  she  said,  — 

"  Dear  uncle  Mason,  '  whosoever  believeth  on  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  shall  be  saved.'  Why  can't  you  believe  on 
him,  when  he  is  so  very  lovely,  and  he  loves  you  so  ?  I 
will  say  that  pretty  hymn,  — 

'Just  as  I  am,  without  one  pica, 

Save  tbat  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me, 

And  that  thou  bidd'st  me  come  to  thee, 

O  Lamb  of  God  I  I  come  !  I  come ! ' 

Can't  you  say  that,  uncle  Mason  ?  0,  it  is  so  easy  !  I 
want  you  to  come  to  Jesus  first,  and  then  go  to  auntie. 
Perhaps  she  will  live  when  she  knows  you  love  her ;  and 
if  you  love  Jesus,  you  will  love  everybody." 


LIGHT    IN    DARKLESS.  275 

"  Where  is  he,  child  ? "  said  the  distressed  man ; 
"  where  is  he  ?  I  can't  find  him.  He  isn't  for  such 
as  I." 

"  He  is  here,"  said  Winnie,  reverently.  "  He  is  here. 
Do  you  want  him  ?  Come,  say  it  after  me  —  in  your 
heart,  — 

'  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  pica, 
Dear  Lord,  I  give  myself  to  thee.     Amen.' 

Now,  if  you  have  said  that  truly,  he  will  take  you,  and 
give  you  a  new  heart.  But  grandpa  will  think  I  am  gone 
too  long.  AVill  you  go  to  auntie  now  ?  —  she  wants  you/' 

"  1  will  come  soon.  Did  you  say  she  might  live,  if  I 
loved  her  ?  Tell  her  I  am  not  fit  to  love  her,  but  I  do. 
0,  if  she  can  only  be  spared,  I  will  love  the  Lord  as  long 
as  I  live,  and  trust  him  even  until  death." 

'•'  Well,"  said  Winnie,  "  I  knew  he  would  take  you  if 
you  went  to  him.  You  are  almost  a  Christian,  so  soon  ; 
only  you  must  love  the  Lord,  and  let  him  do  just  as  he 
pleases.  Aunt  Hester  says  he  knows  what  is  best  for 
us.  The  Psalm  says,  '  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I 
trust  in  him.'  Mother  nsed  to  say  that  when  she  was 
sick.  He  did  slay  her,  for  it  was  best,"  sobbed  Winnie  ; 
"  but  she  is  in  heaven,  and  don't  want  to  come  back. 
Now  try,  uncle  Mason  —  say  the  hymn,  all  of  it  —  and 
pray  and  wrestle,  just  as  the  minister  told  us  to  for  you, 
last  night.  And  we  did.  The  Holy  Spirit  will  tell  you 
what  to  ask  for,  and  perhaps  before  you  go  to  auntie  you 
can  come-  to  Christ." 

Grandpa,  as  he  sat  in  his  carriage,  heard  enough  of  the 
conversation  to  satisfy  him  that  the  Spirit  had  begun  its 
work,  lie  prayed  mentally  that  it  might  be  perfected. 
When  Winnie  returned,  he  asked  no  questions. 


270  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE   WORK. 

"  He  is  coming  pretty  soon,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  do  hope 
he  will  go  to  Jesus  first,  for  he  is  feeling  dreadfully,  and 
he  looks  sick,  too.  Grandpa,  I  think  he  will  be  a  Chris- 
tian." 

"  Then  they  were  praying  for  me  last  night,"  mused 
Mr.  Giles.  "  That  is  religion  —  is  it  ?  Well,  it  is  a  good 
thing.  I  wish  I  was  a  Christian  —  I  do,  I  do.  '  Just  as 
I  am  '  —  0,  that  is  vile  enough  ;  but  there  is  all  the  more 
need  of  my  going.  '  Just  as  I  am  '  —  well,  that  is  all 
the  way  I  can  go.  I  can't  forgive  myself,  nor  cleanse 
my  soul  from  guilt.  '  Just  as  I  am  '  •  —  0,  I  want  to  go, 
and  I  will,  so  help  me  God. 

'  I  can  but  perish  if  I  go ; 
I  am  resolved  to  try ; 
For  if  I  stay  away,  I  know 

I  must  forever  die.' 
Yes, — 

'  I'll  go  to  Jesus,  though  my  sins 

Have  like  a  mountain  rose ; 
I  know  his  courts,  I'll  enter  in 
Whatever  may  oppose.' " 

He  sang  almost  unconsciously  as  he  entered  the  house  to 
change  his  dress.  Ann  looked  up  in  amazement,  but  said 
nothing.  He  had  sometimes  sung  in  the  choir,  but  never 
before  in  the  house  ;  and  a  psalm  tune,  too  !  what  could 
it  mean  ? 

"  Prostrate  I'll  lie  before  his  throne, 

And  there  my  guilt  confess  ; 

I'll  tell  him  I'm  a  wretch  undone, 

Without  his  sovereign  grace." 

"  Crazy,  I  s'pose,"  said  Ann.    "  Where  are  you  goin'  ? " 
"  No,"  said  he,  "I  guess  not ;  I  hav.e  been  all  my  life. 


LIGHT    IX    DAKKNESS.  277 

Ann,  I  am  going  to  be  different.  I  want  you  to  forgive 
me  all  my  unkindness  to  you.  Elevia  has  sent  for  me. 
Don't  look  for  me  back  till  you  see  me." 

"  Dyin' —  ain't  she?  Is  that  w'at  makes  ye  look  so 
'appy  all  to  once  ?  " 

"  No,  she  isn't  dying,  and  I  have  a  hope  that  she  is 
going  to  live  ;  and  if  she  does,  why,  I  am  a  happy  man  ; 
for  if  she  dies,  I  have  killed  her,"  he  said,  in  a  low, 
solemn  voice.  "  You  know  it,  Ann,  just  as  my  father 
killed  another  good  woman  —  I  mean  your  mother  and 
mine,  Ann.  And  that  isn't  the  worst  thing  that  he  did, 
for  she  was  a  Christian,  and  has  gone  to  heaven  ;  but, 
Ann,  I  see  it  now ;  he  killed  all  the  tenderness  out  of 
your  soul,  —  or  soured  it,  —  and  made  a  petty  tyrant  of 
me.  You  know  it,  Ann  ;  you  were  abused,  but  you  fought 
it  out  and  lived  —  you  wouldn't  bend.  But,  after  all,  if 
he  had  been  your  husband,  it  would  have  been  harder — • 
wouldn't  it  ?  " 

Ann  sat  down  as  if  overcome  with  sudden  faintness. 

"  Don't  bring  it  all  up  agin,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
quiver  in  her  voice,  "don't;"  and  she  reached  out  her 
hand  as  if  to  put  far  away  some  dread  object.  "  I  know 
it ;  he  killed  'er  ;  an'  I  swore  I  would  never  forgive  'im, 
an'  I  'oped  God  wouldn't.  I  never  loved  anything  agin, 
an'  I  won't." 

"  That  is  it,  Ann  ;  I  see  it  now.  I  have  been  seeing 
it  more  and  more,  ever  since  that  terrible  night.  Why, 
it  seems  to  me  I  have  been  blind  all  my  life.  What  a 
mercy  that  I  didn't  kill  that  child  !  " 

"I  thought  ye'd  do  it,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  she'd 
been  "better  off.  I  wish  'at  somebody'd  killed  me  when 
I  was  born  —  I  do.  I  hain't  seen  nothin'  but  trouble, 


278 


HESTER    STRONG'S    LIKE    WORK. 


nor  done  nothin'  but  grow  wuss  and  wuss  —  an'  shan't. 
Don't  say  nothin'  to  me  'bout  forgiveness  —  I  shan't  usk 
for  it.  I  shan't  forgive  yer  father  ;  an'  I  shan't  ask  for 
nothin'  I  won't  give,"  she  said,  as  Mason  spoke  of  the 
goodness  of  God,  and  his  willingness  to  forgive  sins. 
He  looked  at  her  pityingly,  as  he  said,  — 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  can't  forgive  him.  I  ought  to 
.have  known  better,  and  taken  her  part.  She  was  a  kind 
mother  —  wasn't  she,  Ann?  I  can't  forgive  myself  for 
not  treating  her  more  respectfully.  I  was  young  when 
she  died  —  wasn't  I  ?  But  I  must  go  ;  Elevia  will  be 
looking  for  me.  Get  Envena  to  come  and  stay  with  you, 
if  I  don't  get  home.  I  want  to  watch  with  Elevia  if  they 
will  let  me." 


BITTER    MEMORIES.  279 


CHAPTER     XXX. 

BITTER   MEMORIES. — WELCOME  NEWS. — LOVE    REWARDED. 
—  ELEVIA  SAVED. 

ANN  looked  after  Mason,  in  blank  amazement,  as  he 
rode  away,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  peering 
around  the  corner  of  the  house,  to  make  sure  that  he 
was  really  going  to  Mr.  Lovering's.  "  Sunthin's  got 
into  'im,';  she  muttered  ;  "  goin'  to  die,  likely  as  not. 
He  was  a  pooty  little  feller,  and  mother  sot  'er  eyes  by 
'im.  0,  Lordy,  Lordy  !  I  never  meant  to  think  on  'er 
agin  —  never."  She  swayed  her  body  back  and  forth 
like  a  reed  shaken  in  the  wind,  and  moaned  aloud,  "  0 
Lordy,  she  wanted  me  to  promise  to  meet  'er  in  'eaven  ! 
Well,  I  didn't ;  I  was  cryin' :  she  thought  I  couldn't 
speak.  I  ain't  cried  since,  'ardly,  an'  never  meant  to 
agin.  There,  I'm  a  fool  !  "  she  said,  brushing  a  tear 
from  her  eye,  spitefully.  "  Ketch  me  cryin'  agin ; 
'twon't  bring  'er  back,  nor  make  me  young  an'  'appy 
agin,  nor  take  away  this  millstone  out  o'  my  'cart.  I 
'ate  'im,  an'  I  mean  to  'ate  him  —  so  there  !  "  She  arose 
and  busied  herself  about  the  house,  struggling  to  over- 
come the  feelings  which  Mason's  words  and  his  altered 
manner  had  aroused;  "I've  fit  it  out  so  fur,"  she 
thought;  "I'll  fight  it  all  out.  I  never  knuckled,  an' 
1  won't,  to — to—  She  was  about  to  say  "to  God 
nor  man  ;  "  but  the  impious  thought  startled  her.  She 


280  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

cowered  and  trembled  before  the  unseen  awful  presence 
for  a  moment,  and  then  continued,  "  I'll  'ave  to  knuckle 
before  'ira,  any  'ow ;  but  I'll  wait  till  I  'ave  to." 

"What  has  come  over  me?"  said  Mason  Giles,  as 
he  rode  along.  "  I  feel  easy  and  calm.  My  sins  don't 
feel  so  heavy.  Did  I  really  go  to  Christ  —  did  I  ?  And 
did  he  receive  me  —  me,  such  an  incorrigible  sinner,  so 
hateful  in  my  own  eyes  and  in  the  eyes  of  God  and 
man  ?  Why,  it  can't  be  possible  !  Why,  I  only  waited 
a  moment  at  the  door  of  mercy.  I  did  go,  I  believe, 
with  all  my  heart,  and  I  cried  one  long,  bitter  cry,  for  I 
thought  I  should  die.  My  sins  seemed  weighing  me 
down,  down  to  despair.  Can  it  be  that  I  had  only  to  go 
to  him  and  be  healed?  Then  blessed,  thrice  blessed, 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord.  I  will  praise  him  while  I  live, 
and  trust  him  when  I  die.  I  didn't  deserve  it  —  no,  no  ; 
it  is  all  of  grace  —  all  of  grace.  Hester  must  know 
this,  for  she  saved  me  from  an  awful  crime.  Dear  little 
Unie,  those  cruel  blows  I  gave  you  in  my  madness  sank 
into  my  soul!  The  image  of  Elcvia,  stretching  out  her 
little  pale  arms  to  me,  saying,  '  Forgive  me,  Mason  !  ' 
I  tremble  to  think  how  hardened  I  was.  It  is  nothing 
but  grace,  free  grace,  that  has  removed  the  burden  of 
guilt."  He  put  the  reins  over  his  arm,  took  out  his 
pocket-book,  and  removed  the  writing  Hester  had  given 
him,  and  read  it  over  and  over  again.  "  It  was  Mason 
Giles  that  extorted  that  writing  —  was  it  ?  I  am 
ashamed  and  humiliated.  What  was  I  thinking  of? 
Why,  how  much  that  sounds  like  a  miserly  heathen,  as  I 
was  !  0  God,  break  once  and  forever  this  chain  of 
selfish  avarice,  which  has  bound  me,  hand  and  foot !  " 

"  There  is  Mason  Giles  driving  up  to  the  door,"  said 


\VELCOME    NEWS.  281 

Martha,  as  she  caught  up  the  cradle  in  which  little  Unie 
was  sleeping,  and  bustled  into  grandpa's  room,  and 
locked  the  door. 

"What  can  he  want?"  said  Hester  to  little  Fostina 
—  "  what  can  he  want,  darling?  You  and  auntie  will 
go  and  see  —  won't  we,  darling  ?  " 

"  Um,"  said  the  little  one,  smiling.  "Artie  Fossie, 
go  see."  Hester  did  not  wait  for  him  to  knock  at  the 
door,  but  met  him  at  the  gate.  She  was  calm  exter- 
nally ;  but  her  heart  beat,  and  her  limbs  trembled. 
She  nodded  ;  but  he  reached  out  his  hand  cordially. 
Hester  looked  into  his  face,  and  felt  more  puzzled  than 
ever  as  she  reached  out  her  reluctant  hand.  "  You 
feel  suspicious  of  me,"  he  said,  in  a  broken  voice. 
"  I  should  blame  you  if  you  did  not.  You  ought  not 
to  trust  me.  How  is  little  Unie  ?  I  won't  ask  to  see 
her.  But,  Hester,  I  called  to  thank  you  for  saving  me 
from  the  crime  of  murder,  and  snatching  my  child  from 
death.  Here  is  that  shameful  paper  I  extorted  from 
you.  I  don't  ask  for  the  one  I  gave  you.  If  you  ever 
see  the  time  when  you  can  forgive  and  trust  me,  why, 
give  it  to  me  —  not  till  then."  Hester  sank  down  on  a 
large  stone  by  the  gate,  greatly  agitated.  As  she  did  so, 
Martha,  who  was  looking  from  the  window,  exclaimed,  — 

"  What  now,  father?  What  do  you  suppose  he  is 
saying  ?  Hester  is  all  overcome.  I  wonder  if  Elevia  is 
dead.  Mason  looks  changed.  I  wish  I  knew  what  it 
all  means." 

"  Wait,  child,"  was  his  reply  as  he  tottled  to  see  for 
himself.  Hester  sat  there,  still  bewildered. 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  said  she.  "Mason,  am  I 
dreaming  ?  What  is  it  ?  What  does  all  this  mean  ?  " 


282  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  It  moans  that  the  Lord  has  been  dealing  with  me ; 
it  just  seemed  as  if  the  Almighty  hand  had  been  placed 
firmly  upon  me  :  I  could  not  shake  it  off.  0,  Ilester, 
it  v.-as  a  terrible  conflict ;  no  one  but  God  will  ever  know 
how  awful !  " 

"What  gave  you  relief?"  said  Hester,  as  she  arose 
and  went  close  up  to  him.  "  What  changed  you  so, 
Mason  ? ;; 

"  Grace,  free  grace,"  was  the  joyful  reply.  "  Little 
Winnie  came  with  Mr.  Levering  to  tell  me  Elevia  wished 
to  see  me.  She  found  me  distressed  beyond  measure, 
and  insisted  upon  my  going  to  Christ.  I  can't  tell  you 
what  I  felt  or  suffered  in  the  few  moments  she  was  there. 
It  seemed  a  long  time  to  me.  I  know  not  how  long  it 
was.  She  seemed  to  compel  me  to  go  to  the  door  of 
mercy  just  as  I  was.  '  Lord,  have  mercy  on  me  ! '  I 
cried  —  '  on  me,  who  am  worse  than  the  chief  of  sin- 
ners.' He  heard  me,  I  hope,  and  saved  me  from  despair. 
But  I  must  go  to  Elevia.  Forgive  me,  if  you  can.  I 
don't  ask  you  to  trust  me."  He  held  out  his  hand. 
Hester  took  it,  and  said,  "  Truly,  goodness  and  mercy 
shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life,  for  mino  eyes 
have  seen  the  salvation  of  one  who  was  lost.  Welcome 
to  my  Father's  house  —  welcome.  No  longer  feed  on 
husks  which  the  swine  do  eat,  but  feed  on  the  bread  of 
life.  Mason,  I  have  prayed  for  this,  because  I  promised 
her  I  would  ;  but  my  prayers  were  faithless.  I  could 
not  feel  that  they  reached  the  throne.  But  God  is  good  ; 
give  all  the  glory  to  him.  Break  the  news  carefully  to 
Elevia  :  great  joy  might  kill  her." 

"  Is  that  so,  Hester  ?  How  ignorant  I  am  !  What 
shall  I  do  ?  "  He  looked  thoughtful  and  perplexed. 


LOVE    REWARDED.  '  283 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  will  manage,"  was  the  reply. 
"  You  must  ask  God  to  guide  you :  that  you  will  have 
to  do  in  all  things." 

"  J  will  ask  him,"  was  the  reverent  reply.  "  I  will 
trust  him.  Pray  for  me  while  I  am  gone.  I  feel  as  if 
she  were  going  to  be  spared." 

"Poor  man!"  sighed  Hester;  "he  will  be  disap- 
pointed in  that.  This  has  come  too  late  to  save  her 
life.  Poor  man  !  " 

"•Is  Saul  also  among  the  prophets?"  said  Martha, 
when  Hester  had  relieved  her  mind  by  telling  her  what 
the  reader  already  knows. 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  with  tears  of  gratitude  in  her 
eyes,  "  and  the  scales  have  fallen  from  the  eyes  of  Saul 
the  persecutor.  Martha,  I  thank  God  that  Paul  left  his 
experience  for  our  encouragement.  It  helps  me  to  be- 
lieve in  Mason's  conversion.  I  feel  rebuked  for  my  want 
of  faith.  Why,  I  didn't  believe  the  grace  of  God.  even, 
could  change  that  man  so  1  I  want  you  to  see  him,  he 
looks  so  different.  0,  it  is  wonderful !  I  have  faith  in 
his  conversion.  God  grant  he  may  not  be  deceived,  and 
deceiving  us !  " 

"  Well,  if  Mason  is  really  a  Christian,  and  holds  out 
to  the  end,  I  will  never  be  so  faithless  again,"  said 
Martha.  "  I  thought  he,  at  least,  was  given  over.  I 
never  could  pray  for  his  conversion." 

"  Child,"  said  grandpa,  "hasn't  he  promised  to  save 
all  that  come  unto  him,  even  to  the  uttermost?  Don't 
be  so  faithless,  Martha.  Nothing  is  too  hard  for  God." 
When  Winnie,  in  her  simple,  child-like  way,  had  told  her 
grandmother  all  she  knew  about  uncle  Mason,  the  little 
woman  was  all  astir  with  expectation. 


284  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  "I  don't  believe  it  —  no,  I  don't 
mean  that,  Winnie  ;  but  it  doesn't  seem  possible  !  What 
will  Elevia  say  ?  Dear  child,  she  isn't  expecting  it  —  is 
she  ?  Won't  it  kill  her  if  it  comes  all  at  once  ?  What 
shall  I  do  ?  I  wish  Hester  was  here." 

"  God  is  here,  and  Jesus  is  here,"  said  Winnie,  tim- 
idly. "  Why  don't  you  ask  him,  grandma  ?  " 

"  I  will,  this  blessed  moment.  If  his  coming  to  life 
should  kill  her,  it  would  be  sad  enough.  You  say  he 
prayed  that  she  might  live  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  called  it  a  prayer.  He  didn't  kneel  or  say 
'  Amen ; '  but  he  folded  his  hands  tight,  so,  and  said, 
'0,  if  God  will  only  spare  her,  I  will  love  him  as  long 
as  I  live,  and  trust  him  when  I  die ! '  He  said  it  like  an 
earnest  prayer,  grandma." 

••'  Well,  child,  I  think  it  was  :  for  prayer  is  desire, 
spoken  or  unexpressed."  Mrs.  Lovering  came  back 
soon,  saying,  "  Why,  child,  he  told  me  what  to  do  al- 
most before  I  asked  him.  Run,  child  —  no,  don't  run  ; 
but  go  quietly,  and  tell  her  he  is  feeling  badly  about 
his  sins,  and  says  he  is  going  to  do  better.  Tell  it  a 
little  at  a  time,  dear;  be  careful." 

-  "  Yes,  I  will,"  said  Winnie,  as  she  went  with  her  little 
heart  fluttering  like  a  caged  bird.  "  Grandpa  and  I  have 
been  for  uncle  Mason,  auntie,"  said  she  ;  "  he  is  coming 
pretty  soon." 

"  Is  he  ?  "  said  the  sick  one,  languidly.  "  Winnie,  did 
you  know  I  had  given  him  all  up  ?  The  distress  is  all 
gone.  I  heard  you  pray  last  night,  dear,  in  your  little 
closet,  right  at  my  head.  0,  so  earnestly  !  My  heart 
went  out  with  every  word  I  could  hear  at  first.  Then 
came  a  strange,  sweet  peace,  as  if  your  prayer  was 
really  answered." 


LOVE    REWARDED.  285 

"  Did  you  hear  me,  auntie  ?  Why,  I  did  not  think 
yon  could.  Have  you  always  heard  ?  I  thought  no 
one  but  God  heard  me  in  there.'7  Winnie  seemed  dis- 
concerted. 

"  It  was  all  right,  dear.  I  thank  you  for  that  prayer, 
although  I  could  not  hear  it  all.  I  knew  that  you  were 
praj-ing  for  poor  Mason,  and  it  lifted  the  burden  from 
my  soul."  Winnie  remained  silent  a  white,  and  then 
said,  — 

"  Uncle  is  sorry  he  has  been  so  wicked.  He  loves 
you,  auntie,  and  wants  you  to  get  well.  I  think  he  is 
seeking  Christ."  Elcvia  had  raised  her  head  from  the 
pillow  as  if  fearful  that  she  should  not  hear  every  word. 

"  Say  it  again,  little  comforter,  say  it  again." 

"  I  think  he  is  seeking  Christ,  and  will  find  him. 
But  you  must  lie  down  and  be  very  quiet,  or  you  can't 
see  uncle  when  he  comes." 

"  Seeking  Christ,"  said  Elevia — "wants  me  to  live. 
Winnie,  don't  deceive  me.  I  know  you  don't  mean  to  ; 
but  if  it  is  true,  can  I  —  can  I — bear  to  die?"  She 
pressed  her  hands  tightly  over  her  face.  "  0  Lord, 
could  I  say  it,  then  ?  Could  I  say,  '  Thy  will  be 
done  '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  auntie,"  said  Winnie,  hurriedly,  "  I  think  you 
could.  He  could  help  you  say  it,  if  he  wanted  you  to 
go  ;  but  perhaps  he  will  let  you  live.  Grandma  says  she 
has  known  people  to  get  well  when  every  one  thought 
they  were  going'  to  die." 

"  Well,"  said  Elevia,  "  I  will  try  to  trust  him.  He 
doeth  all  things  well.  All  is  well.  I  will  lie  here  and 
wait,  and  sec  what  the  Lord  will  do  for  me  and  mine. 
And.  Winnie,  couldn't  you  just  pray  here,  a  little 


236  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

prayer,  that  I  might  endure  to  the  end  ?  0,  do  !  Pray 
that  I  may  have  peace  and  strength."  Winnie  prayed  ; 
the  words  were  i'ew  and  broken,  but  they  brought  rest  to 
the  excited  invalid.  "  I  can  bear  it  now,"  said  she, 
looking  up  with  a  smile. 

"  Shall  I  go  out  when  uncle  comes  ?  "  said  Winnie. 
'  "  Yes,  dear,  I  think  you  had  better.  But  don't  go 
farther  than  your  closet,  Winnie.  If  I  want  you,  I  will 
speak."  Mrs.  Lovering  fluttered  about  like  a  bird  in  a 
plum  tree,  when  Mr.  Giles  drove  up  to  the  door.  She 
looked  through  the  blinds,  and  tried  to  read  his  face. 
It  was  sad,  very,  and  pale,  and  his  step,  she  thought, 
faltered.  She  pitied  him. 

"He  must  be  thinking  of  all  those  wicked  actions," 
she  thought,  as  she  met  him  at  the  door,  and  held  out 
her  hand.  He  shook  it  cordially,  but  seemed  agitated. 

"  I  will  show  you  right  up  to  Elevia's  room,"  she  said, 
"  if  you  can  be  culm.  I  guess  you  can.  You  won't 
have  to  say  much,  for  Winnie  has  prepared  her  for  it  all. 
Mr.  Giles,  I  am  so  glad  you  feel  different !  it  will  be  such 
a  comfort !  We  are  all  glad.  Go  in,  and  if  she  wants 
me,  speak  right  at  the  head  of  the  stairs." 

"  Will  she  bear  it?  "  said  he,  speaking  low  and  fast. 

"  0,  yes,  I  think  so  ;  only  be  calm."  They  looked 
into  each  other's  faces  for  a  moment,  when  Elevia,  again 
reaching  out  her  arms,  exclaimed,  — 

"  Dear  Mason,  I  am  so  glad,  so  glad  !  "  lie  took  the 
pale,  cold  hands  in  his,  as  he  whispered, — 

"  Elevia,  my  wife,  my  poor,  poor  wife,  forgive  me. 
Can  you  forgive  me  ?  I  have  seen  rny  sin  and  folly." 
lie  folded  his  arms  about  her,  and  wept.  "  I  shall  kill 
you,  after  all,"  he  said,  raising  his  head,  and  looking  at 
her,  wondering  that  she  was  so  very,  very  still. 


ELEVIA    SAVED.  281 

•"  No,  Mason  ;  I  am  happy  —  too  happy  to  speak.  Can 
it  be,  can  it  be,  that  you  love  me  ?  I  thought  I  should 
bo  willing  to  die  if  you  would  only  love  me  ;  but  now  it 
would  be  sweet  to  live,"  she  said,  clasping  her  arms 
about  his  neck.  "  0  God,  help  me  to  still  say,  '  Thy 
will  be  done  !  '  " 

"  Hush  !  you  are  not  to  die.  God  will  spare  you. 
I  feel  it ;  I  have  felt  it  ever  since  I  cried  for  mercy  and 
was  heard.  You  will  live  to  let  me  atone  for  the  past, 
to  win  back  the  confidence  I  have  forfeited.  You  will 
live  to  help  me  conquer  the  evil  demon  that  has  pos- 
sessed me,  to  bless  your  father,  and  take  care  of  our 
baby."  He  used  to  call  it  hers.  She  looked  up  into  his 
i'acc  tearfully,  and  said,  "  Mason,  I  fear  this  cannot  be. 
See  how  emaciated  I  am  —  see." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  he,  taking  the  thin  hand  in  his. 
"  Elevia,  I  think  these  little  emaciated  arms  helped  to 
convict  rnc,  when  you  reached  them  out  to  me,  and  said, 
'  Mason,  forgive  me.'  Ah,  Elevia,  I  was  lost !  but  I 
trust,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I  arn  found  !  I  shall  nurse 
you  day  and  night ',  you  shall  have  everything  that 
money  can  buy  —  anything.  For,  since  I  really  believed 
I  must  lose  you,  I  have  felt  that  life  is  nothing  without 
you." 

"But,  Mason,"  she  said,  "I  shall  be  nothing  but  a 
baby,  worse  than  ever,  for  a  long  time ;  it  will  wear  you 
all  out." 

"  I  think  not,  Elevia.  I  know  I  shall  be  clumsy  and 
awkward  ;  but  I  feel  as  if  I  just  wanted  you  to  be  a 
bub}',  and  let  mo  tend  you.  I  used  to  want  to  when  wo 
were  lirst  married  ;  but  I  thought  it  would  be  weak  and 
foolish.  That  was  the  way  I  felt  about  Uuie ;  but  I 


288  HESTER    STRONG'S   LIFE   WORK. 

thought  it  would  be  silly  and  womanish  to  love  her,  and 
I  stifled  it  all,  Lcvie.  I  stifled  it  all  until  I  really 
thought  I  disliked  her,  and  you,  too.  0,  but  for  your 
sickness  I  should  have  gone  on  from  bad  to  worse  !  But 
I  am  talking  too  much." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  ;  "  go  on.  It  makes  me  feel  stronger 
to  see  you.  Can't  you  just  take  me  in  your  arms  a 
moment  ?  Call  mother."  Mr.  Giles  started. 

"  Why,  you  don't  call  her  that  —  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  call  her  mother.  She  likes  to  have  me,  and 
I  like  to.  It  pleases  father.  lie  has  been  a  good  father 
to  me.  Mason,  can't  you  love  him  for  my  sake  ?  If  you 
would  only  call  him  father,  it  would  help  to  unite  you." 

"  I  will,"  was  the  reply.  Mrs.  Levering  came  at  the 
first  call.  She  looked  eagerly  at  the  sick  one.  She  was 
no  worse  —  that  was  plain;  and  something  in  her  face 
made  her  think,  '  She  is  saved.'  Together  they  raised 
the  invalid,  and  placed  her  in  the  arms  of  the  husband. 
She  lay  there  contentedly,  as  a  weary  child  in  its  mother's 
bosom.  Winnie  slept  that  night  —  grandpa,  grandma, 
aiint  Judith  — all  slept,  leaving  the  sick  one  with  the  re- 
pentant husband,  who,  if  awkward,  was  very  tender,  and 
quite  acceptable  to  the  invalid. 


THE    DAY    OF    MIRACLES.  289 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE    DAY   OP    MIRACLES,  OR  MR.  GILES  AND  MR.  LOVER- 
ING  MADE  FRIENDS. 

NOT  "  llcrod  and  Pilate,"  but  Mr.  Lovering  and  Mr. 
Giles,  "  were  made  friends  that  day,"  as  Mr.  Giles  con- 
fessed his  faults,  and  told  him  of  his  new  hopes,  and  of 
his  determination  to  lead  a  different  life. 

"  I  shall  stumble  often,"  he  said,  humbly  ;  "  but  with 
Christ  for  my  Saviour,  and  Levie  for  my  helper,  I  think 
I  shall  be  able  to  overcome  at  last.  Father,  —  if  you  will 
let  me  call  you  so,  —  I  have  enjoyed  more  in  these  few 
days,  which  have  been  spent  in  my  wife's  sick  room, 
than  ever  before  in  my  life.  But  I  have  some  terribly 
stubborn  enemies  to  overcome  —  I  mean  selfishness  and 
avarice.  These  are  a  part  of  myself.  Other  sins  have 
sprung  from  these  false,  deceitful  roots.  Shall  I  ever 
overcome  them  ?  "  he  said,  sadly. 

"  The  grace  of  God  is  sufficient  for  all  our  necessities, 
my  son,"  said  Mr.  Lovering,  taking  him  warmly  by  the 
hand.  "  I  thank  my  God  that  you  are  hoping  in  his 
mercy,  and,  as  I  hope  and  believe,  are  a  regenerated, 
changed  man.  But  regeneration  is  not  sanctification. 
You  have  a  conflict  before  you,  a  race  to  run,  a  victory 
to  obtain.  Look  to  Jesus,  my  son.  He  is  the  Author 
and  l'iuis!i:'i-  of  our  faith.  Look  to  Jesus,  and  go  fin-wan!  ; 
seek,  ami  yon  shall  obtain  help  in  every  time  of  trouble. 
19  " 


290  HKSTEB    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOIUv. 

But  there  is  one  thing-  I  wish  to  caution  you  against. 
Don't  spend  your  time  in  vain  regrets  for  the  past.  Im- 
prove and  enjoy  the  present ;  so  shall  you  be  prepared 
for  the  futui'e  in  this  life  and  that  which  is  to  come.  God 
bless  you,  and  help  us  both  to  be  wiser  and  better  men. 
I  scarcely  realize  that  Elevia,  the  dear  child,  is  to  be 
given  back  to  us.  Let  us  not  be  too  sanguine  ;  it  may 
not  be,  after  all." 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  "  brother  Edward  (it  was  the 
first  time  he  had  called  him  'brother')  thinks  she  may. 
Don't  you  see,  she  is  stronger,  takes  more  nourishment, 
and  sleeps  better  ?  " 

"  That  is  favorable,"  said  the  father —  "  all  favorable. 
But  consumption  is  so  deceptive,  and  I  have  so  entirely 
given  her  up  !  " 

"  That  is  it,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  earnestly  ;  "  you  saw 
how  low  she  was,  and  gave  her  up,  long  before  I  thought 
she  was  much  sick  ;  that  makes  the  difference.  To  be 
sure,  she  does  look  poorer  and  paler  lor  a  day  or  two  ; 
but  Edward  says  that  is  not  bad.  Cornc,  you  must  not 
be  as  loath  to  believe  her  better  as  I  was  to  believe  her 
sick.  How  you  must  have  despised  me  !  " 

"  And  you  must  not  so  constantly  refer  to  the  past," 
said  Mr.  Levering.  "  Forget  it  as  much  as  possible.  I 
believe  you  have  seen  your  mistakes,  and  are  trying  to 
rectify  them  ;  so  don't  dwell  upon  them." 

"  That  is  what  Elevia  tells  me,"  was  the  reply.  "  But 
you  must  let  me  look  into  the  old  volume  a  little,  until  I 
am  confirmed  in  the  faith,  and  established  in  the  new 
life."  Mrs.  Levering  smiled  as  Mr.  (Jiles  returned  from 
a  foraging  expedition,  with  raisins,  figs,  dates,  and  wine, 
and  dolefully  exclaimed,  — 


THE    DAY    OF    MIRACLES.  291 

"  The  very  things  I  wanted  most  for  her  are  not  to  be 
had  —  grapes  and  peaches.  I  told  Mr.  Trueman  to  got 
them  for  her  at  any  price.  Edward  says  there  is  noth- 
ing so  good  for  her.  It  is  too  bad !  " 

"  0,  well,"  was  the  reply,  "  he  will  get  them  for  her 

in  a  day  or  two.  But  why  don't  you  ride  over  to  T , 

and  get  some  of  my  son  ?  He  has  a  hot-house.  He 
wrote  me  some  time  ago  that  he  should  have  grapes 
from  then  until  Christmas ;  and  as  likely  as  not  he  has 
early  peaches." 

"  Why,  I  never  thought  of  it!  I'll  ride  over  ;  I  can 
get  back  before  night."  He  went  into  the  sick  room, 
noisily,  to  be  sure ;  he  was  not  used  to  it ;  but  he  went 
lovingly,  and  it  was  no  matter.  His  step  was  like  music 
to  the  sick  one,  and  his  love  was  the  very  elixir  needed 
to  send  the  life-blood  coursing  through  the  veins,  slowly, 
at  first,  but  surely,  until  the  wasted  energies  were  re- 
stored sufficiently  to  take  a  firmer  stand. 

"  I  make  you  a  sight  of  trouble,"  she  said,  as  he  took 
leave  of  her  ;  "  but  I  shall  be  better  by  and  by.  I  think 
the  grapes  will  help  me." 

"  Don't  think  of  the  trouble,"  he  said  ;  "  if  I  can  get 
you  well,  it  is  enough  ;  "  and  he  kissed  her  good  by. 
"  I  wonder  if  I  am  really  the  same  man,"  he  thought  as 
ho  rode  along,  mind  and  heart  full  of  gratitude.  "  I 
wonder  if  I  am  Mason  Giles,  who  always  thought  these 
little  attentions  and  affectionate  ways  foolish  and  child- 
ish, especially  to  wives.  0,  father,  would  that  I  could 
show  you  your  sin  and  folly  !  But  I  cannot ;  nothing 
but  the  power  of  God  can  show  you  how  much  you  art; 
losing,  how  much  suffering  you  are  bringing  upon  others, 
how  much  injury  you  are  doing.  I  can  pniy  for  you  ; 


292  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

that  is  all ;  for  I  verily  believe  you  would  knock  me 
down,  or  throw  the  first  thing  you  could  lay  your  hand 
on  at  me,  if  I  should  speak  to  you  about  it  ever  so  kind- 
ly. Well,  I  wouldn't  go  back  to  the  old  life  for  the 
whole  world  ;  for  I  have  never  been  happy  in  it,  and  I 
think  that  very  unhappiness,  that  dissatisfied  feeling, 
which  I  have  always  had,  has  caused  most  of  my  fretting 
at  Elevia.  Dear  child,  I  wonder  she  can  confide  in  me 
so  soon.  How  I  have  made  her  suffer !  I  can't  help 
thinking  it  over,  unpleasant  as  it  is.  I  suppose  these 
sad  reflections  are  the  legitimate  fruits  of  my  sin,  just 
as  much  as  peace  and  joy  are  the  fruits  of  righteousness. 
How  the  old  burden  comes  back  again  !  Father  Lover- 
ing  is  right.  I  must '  pray  without  ceasing.'  But  I  sup- 
pose I  had  better  not  look  back  too  much,  but  '  press 
forward.'  ' 

"  Is  this  the  day  of  miracles  ?  "  said  Hester,  as  she 
called  to  see  for  herself,  "  or  am  I  dreaming  ?  Elevia  is 
certainly  better  —  a  little  better.  How  satisfied  she 
looks !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Lovering,  "  I  see  it.  I  think  she 
will  live.  But  she  will  be  months  getting  up,  blessed 
lamb  !  But  that  don't  puzzle  me  half  so  much  as  the 
change  in  Mason.  Just  you  look  here  now.  See  all 
these  figs,  and  raisins,  and  things.  What  shall  I  do 
with  them  ?  " 

"  That  is  just  like  a  man  not  used  to  sickness,"  said 
Hester,  laughing.  "  And  then  we  poor  mortals  always 
go  from  one  extreme  to  the  other.  We  swing  back  and 
forth  like  a  pendulum  when  you  strike  it  a  smart  rap, 
until,  after  a  while,  it  swings  about  right.  But  I  don't 
know  what  to  think."  She  was  silent  a  short  time. 


TIIE    DAY    OF    MIRACLES.  293 

"  Lizzie,  love  is  a  powerful  agent.  It  kills  sometimes," 
she  said,  with  a  strange  smile  ;  "  it  kills.  And  now  we 
see  that  it  makes  alive  ;  that  is,  if  Elovia  lives,  it  will. 
Nothing  else  could  have  saved  her.  0,  what  a  wonder- 
ful gift  it  is,  but  dangerous,  if  used  carelessly  or  thought- 
lessly. Lizzie,  you  remember  Horace."  She  waited  for 
no  reply,  but  went  on.  "  If  I  could  have  known  of 
Mehitable  Sharp's  perfidy  in  season — "  She  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands  for  a  moment,  while  her  whole  frame 
shook  with  emotion.  Mrs.  Lovering  sat  motionless, 
wondering  if  Hester's  affection  had  been  so  strong  as  to 
outlive  all  these  years.  "  Why,  I  supposed  she  had  got 
over  it,  she  is  always  so  cheerful,"  she  thought.  Hes- 
ter raised  her  head  soon,  saying,  with  another  of  those 
strange,  sad  smiles,  — 

"Lizzie,  if  I  had  known,  I  might  have  saved  him. 
Religion  saved  me.  There,  don't  speak  of  this.  I  came 
to  rejoice  with  you  all,  and  not  to  weep  for  myself;  that 
is  the  best  medicine  for  a  wounded  spirit.  I  must  not 
stop  to  weep  or  repine,  but  do  with  my  might  what  my 
hands  find  to  do,  that  I  may  be  all  ready  when  the 
Master  calls." 

"  That  woman  deserves  to  be  hung,"  said  Mrs.  Lover- 
ing,  impulsively,  "  to  make  you  suffer  all  this  time  I 
Why,  I  —  well,  I  know  I  am  not  as  good  as  you  are,  I 
couldn't  forgive  her,  nor  do  as  you  have  done." 

"  By  the  grace  of  God,  I  am  what  I  am,"  was  the 
low  rojply.  "  I  do  not 'hate  her  ;  but  as,  day  by  day,  I 
draw  nearer  to  eternity,  nearer  to  God  and  Horace,  I  pity 
her.  May  God  have  mercy  on  her.  How  can  she  dare 
to  meet  the  judgment,  with  her  sins  like  a  millstone 
about  her  neck  ?  "  Winnie  was  delighted  to  see  aunt 


294:  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

Hester,  she  was  so  happy  !  Uncle  Mason  and  annt  Elevia 
were  saved  ;  she  felt  sure  of  it.  "  And  now/''  she  said, 
"there  is  but  one  great  burden  left — my  /a'.Vv,"  she 
whispered.  "  But  I  don't  try  to  carry  it  alone  ;  it  is 
too  heavy.  I  have  given  it  to  Jesus,  and  lie  carries  it 
most. all  the  time  now." 

"  That  is  right,  dear,"  said  Hester ;  "  I  am  glad  for 
you.  But  you  are  looking  pale,  and  must  come  home 
and  play  and  romp  with  the  children,  or  you  will  get 
sick." 

"But,  auntie,"  was  the  quick  reply,  "do  Christians 
play  ?  I  am  a  Christian,  I  hope." 

"  I  hope  so,  dear ;  but  you  are  a  child  also.  Play, 
amusement,  recreation  of  the  right  kind,  is  not  sinful. 
Children  should  play,  and  run,  and  rejoice  in  their  youth. 
You  know  there  is  a  time  for  all  things,  Winnie,  and 
whatsoever  we  do  we  should  do  for  the  glory  of  God." 

"  How  can  I  glorify  him  playing  ?  "  said  the  child, 
with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  0,  you  can  strengthen  your  body,  which  is  his,  pre- 
serve your  health,  and  make  those  about  you  happy. 
The  little  lambs  and  kittens  play,  and  praise  God  in  that 
way  as  well  as  they  can.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  do  ;  but  I  don't  feel  much  like  play- 
ing now.  I  had  rather  praise  him  by  praying." 

"  Well,  dear,  pray  till  you  feel  like  playing,  then." 
Hester  saw  that  the  child  was  suffering  from  her  con- 
finement to  the  sick  room,  and  was  sadly  needing  rest. 
She  was  becoming  morbidly  sensitive.  Her  childhood 
had  been  crushed,  cruelly  crushed.  "  I  must  find  some 
way  to  take  her  home,"  she  said  to  Martha,  "or- she 
will  be  sick." 


THE    DAY    OF    MIRACLES.  295 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Martha,  thoughtfully.  "  Suppose 
I  go  over  and  stay  to  help  them,  and  let  Winnie  come 
home  a  while.  Playing  with  the  children  will  be  just  the 
thing  for  her." 

"That  will  do,"  said  Hester;  "  but  we  must  let  her 
stay  a  day  or  two  longer,  until  Elevia  takes  a  fair  start 
in  the  way  to  health.  It  will  be  a  long  road,  poor 
child  !  " 

"  How  funny  it  seems  to  have  you  feeding  me  !  "  said 
Elevia,  as  she  looked  up  in  her  husband's  face  with  a 
smile.  *  "  Those  grapes  are  very  nice,  but  it  does  seem 
to  me  they  taste  better  from  your  hand.  It  is  so  strange 
and  pleasant !  0,  how  glad  I  am  I  can  live  some 
longer !  How  happy  we  shall  be,  now  that  we  know 
how  to  live  !  "  A  tear  came  into  the  husband's  eye  as 
he  looked  into  the  pale,  thin,  but  happy  face,  and  thought 
of  the  past. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  sorry  that  I  live,"  said  Elevia, 
as  she  saw  the  sad  expression. 

"  Don't  speak  in  that  way  —  don't,  if  you  love  me. 
What  would  life  be  without  you  ?  I  was  thinking  of  the 
change  in  you  since  I  took  you  from  your  home,  so  full 
of  life  and  joy,  and  how  I  brought  you  back  broken- 
hearted, suffering,  almost  dying,  and  left  you  so  coldly, 
without  dreaming  I  —  " 

"  0,  Mason,"  was  the  tearful  reply,  as  she  laid  her 
hand  pleadingly  over  his  mouth,  "  dear  Mason,  don't 
look  back  —  look  forward.  It  is  all  over  now.  You 
didn't  understand  me  —  how  could  you  ?  I  was  to  blame, 
too." 

"  I  don't  know  how  or  when  you  were  to  blame  — 
though  I  blamed  you  then.  But  this  subject  pains  you  ; 


296  HESTER   STRONG'S   LIFE   WORK. 

we  will  drop  it.  Take  another  grape,  while  I  say,  once 
for  all  time,  I  thauk  you,  Elcvia,  for  not  submitting  to 
ray  unreasonableness.  I  should  have  been  as  great  a 
tyrant  as  father,  if  you  had.  I  should  never  have  been 
happy,  nor  let  my  family  be  happy.  Under  God  you 
have  saved  me.  I  shudder  to  think  of  the  yoke  I  have 
escaped  ;  so  let  us  thank  God  and  take  courage.  But 
don't  expect  me  to  be  perfect  —  will  you  ?  I  am  so  dif- 
ferent from  you  and  your  family  !  That  was  why  I  didn't 
like  them  —  did  you  know  it  ?  They  were  a  standing 
rebuke  to  me  ;  but  now  they  shall  be  my  example." 

"  Let  Christ  be  our  Example,  our  Leader,  the  Captain  of 
our  salvation,  my  dear  husband,"  was  the  fervent  reply. 
"  I  long  to  be  well  and  strong  again,  so  that  I  can  realize 
the  dream  of  my  girlhood,  in  my  own  house,  with  my 
own  dear  husband.  I  long  to  show  you  what  a  good  little 
wife  I  shall  be,  now  that  I  have  you  to  love  and  lean 
upon.  How  happy  we  shall  be  with  little  Unie  !  0,  you 
will  love  her  so,  now  that  you  don't  shut  your  heart 
against  her  !  You  will  have  a  family  altar  —  won't  you, 
Mason  ?  How  pleasant  our  home  will  be  !  Our  friends 
will  love  to  visit  us.  Won't  it  be  delightful  ?  " 

"  It  will,"  was  the  abstracted  reply.  He  was  wonder- 
ing how  such  a  sinner  as  he  had  been  should  ever  erect 
an  altar  of  praise  in  his  house.  What  would  father  say  ? 
What  would  brother  Wiley  and  Ann  say  ?  His  heart 
failed  him.  There  was  a  cross.  Should  he  be  able  to 
take  it  up  ?  He  noticed  the  sad  eyes  of  his  wife  upon 
him,  and  told  her  of  what  he  had  been  thinking. 

"  It  will  be  a  cross,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  Hester  says 
we  must  never  go  round  a  cross,  or  step  over  it,  but 
stoop  to  take  it  up,  and  we  shall  find  it  easy,  blessed 
work  to  carry  it.  So  cheer  up." 


THE    DAY    OF    MIRACLES.  297 

He  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said,  hesitatingly,  — 

"  There  will  be  a  cross  for  you,  Levie,  when  you  get 
home.  Can  you  bear  it,  think  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so  :  what  is  it  ?  I  can't  bear  much  now. 
I  see  every  little  thing  depresses  me,  even  a  sober  look 
on  your  face.  I  am  so  childish,  I  wonder  you  all  bear 
with  me  so  patiently." 

"I  wonder,"  said  Mason,  "that  you  are  not  more 
childish.  About  the  cross  :  I  have  been  thinking  over 
Ann's  past  life,  and  I  pity  her.  She  was  only  a  little 
thing  when  she  came  to  father's.  What  a  place  for  a 
fatherless  child  to  come  to  !  She  was  looked  upon  as  an 
intruder.  I  was  taught  to  think  so.  No  one  loved  her 
but  mother  ;  and  she  loved  mother  with  a  passion  you 
would  not  think  her  capable  of  feeling.  I  remember  how 
she  wept  and  sobbed  when  mother  died.  Father  sternly 
sent  her  from  the  room,  saying,  she  was  '  enough  to  raise 
the  dead.'  I  shall  never  forget  her  look  as  she  turned 
and  said,  '  Only  that  you  would  abuse  her  so,  I  would  cry 
until  I  did  wake  her  up.'  He  sprang  after  her  with  his 
hand  upraised.  She  darted  like  a  bewildered  spirit  from 
the  room,  exclaiming,  '  I'm  glad,  I'm  glad  she  is  dead 
—  now  you  can't  beat  her  any  more.'  Father  muttered 
a  low  curse,  and  left  the  room." 

"  It  was  a  terrible  scene  over  the  dead,"  said  Elevia  — 
"  wasn't  it  ?  Why  didn't  she  leave  the  family  ?  " 

"  Strangely  enough,"  was  the  reply,  "  all  the  prop- 
erty belonging  to  her  own  father  was  entirely  in  my 
father's  hands  during  his  life.  How  it  came  so  I  n-.  \er 
knew.  He  would  never  come  to  any  settlement,  nor  give 
her  anything.  Said  she  might  slay  there  as  she  had  done, 
if  she  would  behave,  which  meant  that  she  must  be  a 
slave." 


298  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Poor  Ann  !  "  murmured  Elevia  ;  "  what  a  life  to 
lead." 

"  Yes  ;  you  may  well  say  that.  From  that  day  a  war- 
fare has  been  waging  between  them.  Both  have  fought 
with  a  zeal  worthy  of  a  better  cause  ;  neither  is  con- 
quered. Father  can't  send  her  off  empty,  and  she  won't 
go  without  what  belongs  to  her.  And  now,  as  I  remem- 
ber my  mother's  dying  words  to  me,  boy  that  I  was,  I 
want  to  do  something  for  her,  if  you  consent." 

"  What  were  they  ?  "  said  Elevia,  eagerly. 

"  '  Mason,  take  care  of  Ann  when  you  are  old  enough. 
You  will  see  how  it  is,'  she  whispered  ;  '  take  care  of 
her.  You  are  all  she  will  have  left,  and  she  loves  you. 
She  is  a  good  girl.'  My  father  entered  ;  I  heard  her 
saying  something  to  him  about  Ann  and  the  property. 
lie  grew  angry,  and  I  left  the  room.  Yes,  Elevia,  I  left 
the  room,  bewildered,  to  be  sure,  for  I  loved  my  mother, 
but,  strangely  enough,  with  the  feeling  that  she  had  said 
something  wrong  to  father  ;  for  I  thought  no  one  ought 
to  gainsay  or  withstand  him,  and  this  my  poor  mother  had 
taught  me.  But  I  shall  tire  you  all  out.  I  will  tell  you 
the  rest  some  other  time." 

"  No,  no  ;  tell  me  all  now.  What  can  you  do  for 
Ann  ?  I  can't  rest  till  I  know." 

"  Why,  I  want  her  to  have  rooms  in  our  house,  and 
'live  in  peace  the  rest  of  her  life,  if  you  consent.  ]  know 
how  unpleasant  it  will  be  for  you,  and  you  must  count 
the  cost." 

"  Mason,  Mason,"  was  the  quick,  nervous  call,  •"  do 
you  know  what  you  ask  of  me  ?  Could  we  be  happy 
with  her  there  ?  Wouldn't  Unie  be  like  her  ?  0, 1  wish 
I  knew  1  " 


THE    DAY    OF    MIRACLES.  299 

"  There,  there,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  alarmed  at  the  excite- 
ment he  had  caused  ;  "  be  quiet,  Elevia.  You  shan't  have 
her  around  unless  you  are  willing".  I  ought  not  to  have 
spoken  of  it  now." 

"  Willing  ?  0,  I  am  willing  that  you  should  do  right. 
I  am  ;  yes,  I  hope  I  am.  Poor  Ann  !  poor  Mason  !  I  am 
so  selfish  !  "  She  wept  hysterically.  "  0,  Mason,  you 
must  do  right  —  don't  mind  me." 

"  0,  dear,"  thought  Mr.  Giles,  "  I  have  made  a  fool- 
ish blunder  now.  I  wonder  if  I  can  ever  understand 
women  and  children,  and  sick  folks.  Elevia,"  he  whis- 
pered close  to  her  ear,  "  Elevia,  don't  cry  ;  you  shall 
have  it  all  your  own  way.  I  am  sorry  I  —  " 

"  Well,  you  needn't  be,"  was  the  gentle  reply  ;  "  you 
ought  to  speak  about  it.  I  am  sorry  I  am  so  selfish.  I 
shall  get  over  it ;  and  when  I  am  stronger,  I  shan't  give 
way  to  my  feelings  so.  I  promise  you  that,  if  you  will 
put  up  with  it  till  then."  She  looked  inquiringly  into 
his  face.  "  Will  you  ?" 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her,  saying,  — 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  and  when  you  are  stronger,  perhaps 
you  will  stoop  to  take  the  cross,  and  find  it  lighter  than 
you  think.  If  not,  I  shall  put  it  out  of  your  way." 

"  No,  you  shan't,"  she  said,  smiling  through  her  tears  ; 
"  that  won't  do.  If  God  don't  remove  it,  I  shall  take  it 
up.  Ann  shall  stay  if  he  wills  it  so.  But  I  am  wasting 
precious  strength.  Kiss  me  again,  and  then  soothe  my 
head  so  that  I  can  sleep.  I  am  very  tired." 

Mrs.  Lovering's  predictions  proved  true  about  Elevia's 
recovery.  She  had  relapses  and  break-downs  ;  but  health 
at  lust  rewarded  those  who  had  so  carefully  watched  over 
her.  Mr.  Giles,  in  his  turn,  went  back  and  forth,  spen  ,- 


300  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

ing  all  the  time  he  could  with  liis  wife.  Ann  muttered, 
sighed,  and  scolded  in  turn. 

"  Ye'll  go  to  the  poor  'ouse,  all  on  ye,  yet,  likely 'a 
not.  I  can't  'elp  it.  I  work  'ard  'miff." 

"  0,  no,  we  shan't,  Ann,"  said  Mr.  Giles.  "  I  am 
pretty  well  off  yet ;  and  Elevia  is  getting  well.  She'll 
be  home  by  and  by,  and  then  we  want  you  to  keep  house 
in  the  west  room.  You'll  be  company  for  us,  and  can 
come  and  go  when  you  please." 

"  Do'no  'bout  that  ;  w'ere's  the  money  comin'  from  ?  " 

"  0,  it  shan't  cost  you  anything  for  rent,  or  wood,  or 
milk,  or  vegetables  ;  and  I'll  fix  things  so  that  father  will 
pay  you  so  much  yearly;  at  least  I  think  I  can.  lie 
ought  to,  and  shall,  if — "  He  stopped,  for  Ann  was 
looking  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Be  ye  crazy,  Mason  ?  "  she  said,  at  length.  "  Lordy, 
Lordy  !  'ow  much  ye  look  like  'er.  0,  Lordy  !  "  Ann 
covered  her  wrinkled  face.  "  'Ow  it  all  comes  back  !  I 
wish  ye'd  fret  and  fuss  as  ye  used  to  ;  I  can  stan'  that, 
but  I  can't  stan'  this  'ere  ;  I  ain't  used  to  't.  Nobody 
but  'er  ever  spoke  a  kind  word  to  me  after,  after  —  " 
Ann  broke  down. 

"  You  mean  after  your  father  died  and  mother  married 
again.  I  know  it,  Ann  ;  it  was  a  shame.  I  am  going 
to  be  a  different  man  from  my  father.  But  the  Lord 
knows  I  came  near  killing  my  wife,  as  he  did  our 
mother.  I  remember  it  all  now,  and  see  it  all.  You 
won't  go  back  there  —  will  you  ?  It  is  bad  for  you 
both." 

"  Do'no  ;  Lcve  won't  want  me  when  she  gets  well. 
Nobody  wants  me  when  they  can  'elp  it." 

"  Yes,  she  will ;  you  see  if  she  don't.     She  is  a  good 


THE    DAY    OF    MIRACLES.  301 

girl  —  Elcvia  is,  Ann.  She  loves  me,  with  all  my  faults. 
You  will  be  the  best  of  friends  yet." 

"  She's  good  'nuff,  I  s'pose.     Wen  is  she  comiu'  ?  " 

"  Pretty  soon,  if  nothing  happens.  Ann,  do  you  re- 
member how  father  pulled  off  mother's  flowers,  —  red 
and  yellow,  great  and  small,  —  and  put  them  in  a  gor- 
geous wreath,  round  her  poor  dead  face  ?  "  No  answer. 
"  Ann,  I  think  you  pulled  them  out  and  threw  them  to 
the  hogs  —  didn't  you  ?  I  am  glad  you  did  it.  I  didn't 
understand  it  then.  What  did  he  do  it  for  ?  " 

"  0,  Lordy  !  I  do'no  ;  'e  said  she  liked  such  trash,  an' 
'e  wanted  the  ground." 

After  a  little  silence  Mr.  Giles  said,  "  Ann,  I  think 
mother  was  a  Christian." 

"  Course  she  was  ;  w'ere'Il  ye  find  one  if  she  warn't  ?" 
was  the  gruff  reply. 

"  0,  I  think  she  was,  and  I  hope  I  am  one.  She  told 
me  to  take  care  of  you  when  I  was  a  man.  I  haven't 
done  it  —  you  have  taken  care  of  me.  I  am  going  to  do 
better.  I  shall  pay  you  for  keeping  house  ;  and  I  hope 
you  will  be  a  Christian  some  time." 

She  looked  up  at  him  bitterly  as  she  said,  — 

"  I  tell  yo  I  won't  forgive  'im  ;  an'  I  won't  be  mean 
'nuff  to  ask  arter  w'at  I  won't  give."  She  left  the  room. 
"  0,  Lordy  !  "  she  mused  ;  "  w'ats  come  over  Mm  ?  I 
can't  stan'  it  —  I  can't  —  I'd  rather  he'd  beat  me." 

She  wrung  her  hard,  toil-worn  hands,  as  if  to  wring 
out  the  bitter  thoughts  that  came  creeping  in  at  the  door 
of  her  heart,  so  long  closed  to  human  sympathy,  which, 
as  she  thought,  had  boon  rudely  pried  open  by  the  voice 
of  Clirisiiiin  love. 

"  No,  im  ;  1  won't  forgive  'im/'  she  muttered.  "  I 
;  I  <-:i!i't.  Didn't  he  kill  Yr —  didn't  he?  If  I 


302  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

ever  do  forgive  'im,  it'll  be  w'en  I  can't  'elp  it  —  there 
now.  God  may  forgive  'im,  but  I  can't ;  no,  no,  I  can't. 
She  don't  want  me  to  —  I  know  it  —  0,  I  know  it." 

"  I  can't  let  you  carry  your  wife  home  till  Thanksgiv- 
ing," was  Mr.  Lovering's  reply  to  the  importunities  of 
Mr.  Giles.  "  She  will  be  stronger  then.  No  ;  I  want 
to  kill  the  fatted  calf,  and  have  the  whole  family  together. 
What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  shall  have  to  submit,"  was  the  reply.  "  But 
when  I  do  get  her,  I  shan't  give  her  up  again  so  easily," 
he  said,  laughing.  "  But  I  can  never  thank  you  enough 
for  what  you  have  done  for  us.  I  insist  upon  paying  our 
board  since  I  have  been  here." 

"  Well,  I  shan't  refuse  to  take  a  moderate  sum.  You 
will  feel  better ;  and  besides,  I  arn  not  as  rich  as  I  might 
be,  and  Harmony's  children  must  be  looked  after." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Giles,  "  and  I  want  you  to  carry 
out  Elevia's  wishes,  and  pay  for  Winnie's  schooling  out  of 
her  portion.  I  have  engaged  the  best  girl  I  could  find  to 
help  Elevia,  and  think  we  shall  be  very  happy  after  this." 

"  If  Ann  troubles  her,  and  renders  her  life  miserable, 
I  shall  expect  you  to  make  different  arrangements,"  was 
the  reply.  "  You  see  I  talk  to  you  now  just  as  I  do  to 
my  own  boys.  I  have  always  been  an  old  patriarch 
among  them,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  Frank  and  Edward 
consult  me  about  as  much  as  Charles,  and  then  they  all 
do  as  they  please.  That  is  about  it,  I  believe.  So  you 
won't  mind  my  taking  liberties,"  he  said,  as  Mr.  Giles 
changed  color. 

"  No,  I  won't  mind  —  er  I  will  try  not  to.  I  have 
IHTII  out  of  the  way,  and  I  don't  wonder  you  can't  trust 
me." 


THE    DAY    OF    MIUACLES.  303 

"  Yes,  I  do  trust  you  ;  I  onty  speak  about  these  things. 
I  believe  you  mean  to  do  right,  and  I  think  you  will." 

Perhaps  my  readers  will  think  me  a  gjeat  while  telling 
my  story.  Please  be  patient  while  I  tell  you  what  be- 
came of  the  children  who  had  been  the  objects  of  so  much 
tender,  unselfish  love  ;  so  unfortunate,  and  yet  so  richly 
blessed.  The  little,  pale,  sallow  baby  we  introduced  to  you 
at  the  beginning  has  been  maturing  into  a  lovely,  thought- 
ful child.  The  circumstances  of  her  little  life  have  pre- 
pared her  to  begin  the  work  of  self-denial,  for  which  she 
seems  to  have  been  rescued  from  an  untimely  death. 
She  had  one  of  those  confiding  natures  which  steal  into 
all  hearts  not  barred  against  them  by  selfishness.  That 
seems  to  be  the  mission  of  all  babies.  They  are  the 
golden  keys  that  the  All-Father  sends  to  unlock  the  deep- 
est fountains  of  human  affection,  and  draw  out  the  hidden 
sympathies  of  the  soul,  which  lie  buried  beneath  the  dust 
and  ashes  of  selfishness  and  corroding  cares.  Theirs  is 
a  glorious  mission.  Rusty  and  crusty  must  that  soul  be, 
which  resists  the  holy  influence  of  the  baby,  and  refuses 
to  take  in  these  little  ones,  who  come  to  us  like  sweet 
odors  from  the  source  of  love — like  bright,  sparkling 
drops  from  the  great  Fountain  of  all  good.  But  our 
baby  had  a  wonderful  smile,  wonderful  eyes,  and  a  won- 
derful faculty  for  creeping  into  the  snuggest,  warmest 
corner  of  all  hearts.  Perhaps,  as  she  was  to  be  left  a 
helpless  infant,  worse  than  fatherless,  she  came  more 
richly  freighted  from  the  Infinite  Source  of  love.  Per- 
haps, as  she  had  a  dangerous,  difficult  road  to  travel,  a 
mission  to  accomplish,  she  came  armed  for  the  conflict. 
\Vc  shall  see. 


304  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CIIAPTEK    XXXII. 

FOSTINA'S  MISSION. 

"  WHERE  is  my  fatlier  ?  "  said  a  little  girl  of  seven 
summers.  "  Where  is  he  ?  "  she  repeated,  fixing  her 
large,  dark,  beautiful  eyes  searchingly  upon  the  yet  fair, 
pleasant  face  of  our  old  friend,  Hester  Strong. 

"  Fossie,  darling,  why  do  you  wish  to  know  ?  Are 
you  not  happy  here  with  us  ?  Get  your  dollie,  dear,  and 
I  will  try  to  help  you  dress  it." 

"  No,  no,"  was  the  impatient  reply ;  "  I  want  to  see 
my  father  —  I  must.  You  say  my  sweet  mamma  loved 
him,  and  I  must  see  him.  Tell  me  where  he  is;  please, 
auntie,  do.  Now  grandpa  Manlie  has  gone  to  Heaven, 
I  want  rny  father — I  want  him."  She  laid  the  little 
pale  face  wearily  against  the  broad,  loving  bosom  which 
had  sheltered  her  so  tenderly  all  those  years. 

"  You  grieve  me,  darling,"  said  Hester,  putting  her 
arm  about  the  child,  and  stroking  the  rich,  dark  hair ; 
"  darling,  you  grieve  me.  If  I  thought  it  would  make 
you  happy,  I  would  carry  you  to  see  your  father ; 
but  —  " 

"  But  what,  auntte  —  what  is  it  ?  What  has  he  done  ? 
Is  he  blind,  or  lame,  or  crazy,  like  poor  Mr.  Davis  ?  I 
must  know.  The  children  at  school  whisper  about 
him,  and  ask  me  where  he  is,  and  laugh  because  I 
don't  know.  And  I  must  know.  I  am  snvn  venra  o1 7 


FOSTINA'S    MISSION.  305 

now,"  she  said,  disengaging  herself  from  those  loving 
arms ;  and,  brushing  the  tears  nervously  away,  she 
raised  herself  to  her  utmost  height,  saying,  "  Don't  you 
see  how  tall  I  am  ?  Such  a  big  girl,  and  don't  know  my 
father  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Hester,  smiling  at  the  attitude  the 
child  had  taken ;  "  but  you  always  loved  to  have 
grandpa  call  you  '  Little  Mary ; '  '  My  Mary '  —  didn't 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  but  he  is  dead  now,  and  I  want  to  see 
my  father  :  you  said  I  might  when  I  was  old  enough." 

"Well,  dear,"  said  Hester,  thoughtfully,  "if  you 
think  you  know  what  is  best  for  you,  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  your  father ;  but  I  think  you  had  better  wait." 

"  Auntie,  I  don't  know  what  is  best ;  but  I  am  very, 
very  unhappy."  She  threw  herself  into  those  ever-open 
arms,  and  wept  passionately. 

"  Better  tell  her  all  about  it  now,"  said  Martha  Man- 
lie  ;  "  she  can't  feel  much  worse." 

"Darling,"  said  Hester,  softly,  —  "darling,  do  you 
remember  the  large,  ragged  man  that  used  to  come  here 
when  grandpa  was  alive,  and  how  grandpa  used  to 
call  you  into  his  room,  and  tell  you  stories  while  he 
Ktai.l?" 

"  Yes,  auntie  ;  who  was  it  ?     He  had  an  old  hat,  and 

walked  crooked  all  round.     And  Elida  used  to  scold  at 

him,  and  call  him    '  naughty.'     Who  was  it  ?     I  used  to 

look  out  of  the  window  when  he  went  off,  and  breathe 

just  w,"  —  taking  a  long  breath,  —  "  and   grandpa  used 

t"  put  his  hand  on  my  head,  and  say,  'Thank   God  !  — 

thank   God  ! '       What   rnudo   him  ?     He  isn't  — "     She 

1   herself,   and  started  back   so  that  she  could  fix 

20 


306  UESTEll    STIiONG'S    LIFE    WOKK. 

those  strange,  beautiful  eyes  on  Hester's  face,  and 
waited  almost  breathlessly  —  "  lie  isn't — "  she  re- 
peated. 

"  If  he  were  your  father,  could  you  love  him,  and 
should  you  still  want  to  go  and  see  him  ?  "  was  the  reply. 
The  child  looked  at  one,  then  at  the  other,  and  then  her 
eye  rested  on  a  little  picture  of  her  mother.  She  seemed 
bewildered  and  perplexed.  At  length,  bursting  into 
fresh  tears,  she  exclaimed,  vehemently,  — 

"  I  think  you  are  naughty  to  talk  that  way.  What 
would  she  say?  She  wouldn't  love  that  man,  auntie  — 
never!"  After  she  became  more  quiet,  Hester  told  her 
all  about  her  father,  and  the  circumstances  of  her  moth- 
er's happy  death,  and  her  father's  rapid  fall  into  drunken- 
ness and  ruin. 

"  Do  they  ever  get  better  ? "  said  the  child,  stifling 
her  grief — "do  they,  auntie?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  sometimes." 

"  Who  cures  them  ?     God  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  he  sometimes  blesses  the  efforts  of  good  peo- 
ple, who  labor  for  the  temperance  cause  ;  and  drunkards 
sign  the  pledge,  leave  off  drinking,  and  become  good 
again." 

"  What  is  the  pledge  ?  Do  any  but  drunkards  sign 
it?" 

"  Yes,  dear ;  Martha  and  I  have  signed  it,  Winnie 
and  Wallace  have,  and  a  great  many  others." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  get  my  father  to  sign  it  ?  "  she 
paid,  reprovingly.  "  I  want  to  sign  the  pledge,  and  then 
I  shall  get  him  to  sign  it,  and  he  won't  wear  those  ragged 
clothes  any  more.  He  shall  walk  like  uncle  Edward,  and 
I  will  buy  him  a  new  hat,  and  then  he  shall  come  to  the 


FOSTINA'S    MISSION.  307 

school-bouse,  and  they  shall  see  that  I  have  a  father  as 
well  as  they  —  can't  I,  auntie  ?  "  she  inquired,  eagerly. 

"  Why,  yes,  dear ;  you  can  sign  the  pledge,  and  labor, 
and  pray,  and  be  a  nice  little  temperance  girl,"  said 
Hester,  cheerfully.  "  Now  that  is  settled,  get  your 
dollie,  and  we  will  see  what  we  can  do  for  that.'7 

"  0,  but  I  want  to  sign  it  now,  auntie.  What  if  he 
should  die  ?  I  must  begin  right  off."  Hester  wrote 
what  she  called  a  pledge,  and  guided  the  little  fingers  to 
sign  it.  A  sigh  of  relief  escaped  when  it  was  accom- 
plished. 

"  There,"  said  Hester,  "  you  must  ask  God  to  lead  you 
now,  and  wait  till  he  opens  the  way." 

"  You  pray  about  it,  auntie.  I  shouldn't  know  any- 
thing but  '  Our  Father,'  and  '  Now  I  lay  me,'  and  such 
prayers."  Hester  prayed,  and  then  called  the  child's 
attention  to  her  dollie  again. 

"  But,  auntie,  I  shall  want  a  prayer  like  that." 

"  Well,"   said  Hester,    "  after   you  have    said,  '  Our 

Father,'  you  can    say,    '  Dear  Lord,  please  to    help  me 

reform  my  father ;  please  to  save  him  from  the  power 

of  sin,  for  Jesus'  sake ; '    and  then  you  must  wait  till 

,  he  opens  the  way." 

Eli  da  Lentell  was  a  general  favorite  in  school.  No  one 
attempted  to  tease  her.  They  couldn't ;  or,  if  they  at- 
tempted it,  they  were  obliged  to  escape  ignobly  from 
her  keen,  sharp  wit.  One  boy,  who  knew  something  of 
her  history,  maliciously  inquired, — 

"  Do  you  remember  when  you  lived  in  the  swamp  ?  " 
alluding  to  '  the  small  house  near  the  swamp,'  where  we 
iir.st  found  Llida. 

"  Why,   no,"  was  the  prompt  reply.     "  What  was   I 


308  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

then  ?  —  a  fish  or  a  frog  ?  I  don't  remember  a  thing 
about  it.  You  came  there  to 'drink  —  didn't  you,  after 
chasing  a  squirrel  ?  I  am  glad  dogs  don't  catch  frogs 
nor  fishes."  This  was  said  in  her  own  inimitable  man- 
ner, and  caused  a  roar  of  laughter,  which  greatly  dis- 
comfited the  enemy,  and  caused  the  boys  and  girls,  to 
gather  more  closely  around  her.  She  was  the  same  fun- 
ny, joyous  child  that  she  had  been  seven  years  before  — 
the  '  Sunshine '  of  the  school-house  and  the  play-ground, 
as  well  as  the  home  circle.  Cheerfulness  was  her  gift ; 
but  underneath  it  was  a  firm,  persistent  will,  which  it 
had  caused  Hester  much  pain  and  effort  to  control. 

"  She  is  the  hardest  one  among  them  to  manage,"  she 
used  to  say  ;  "  for  sometimes  her  wilf ulness  is  so  covered 
up  with  apparent  good  nature,  that  I  find  it  difficult  to 
get  along." 

Wallace  was  a  fine  scholar,  the  pride  of  the  family. 
Howard  Trueman  had  entered  college,  was  half  through, 
and  Wallace  had  day-dreams  of  college  life  and  a  pro- 
fession. Albert  Gray  is  attending  school  with  Wallace  ; 
they  are  firm  friends.  Lottie  and  Winnie  are  bosom 
companions. 

Mr.  Stillman  is  keeping  store  yet.  Seven  years  have 
changed  him,  but  not  for  the  better.  He  curses  in  his 
heart  the  Temperance  Reform,  and  attributes  his  want 
of  success  in  business  to  the  Maine  Law  and  Mr.  True- 
man, who  is  now  the  liquor  agent,  and  is  complained  of 
bitterly  for  "corking  up  the  bottles  so  tight,"  and  refus- 
ing to  sell  a  drop  without  a  manifest  reason  for  it. 

Mrs.  Stillman  is  leading  a  quiet,  consistent  life. 
Jack's  term  at  the  Reform  School  has  expired ;  but  he 
is  not  reformed.  He  is  still  a  wanderer,  they  know  not 


FOSTINA'S    MISSION.  309 

where  ;  and  the  mother  sighs  as  she  thinks  how  different 
it  might  have  been.  Clara,  now  a  fine-looking  girl,  is  in 
the  factory,  boarding  and  intimately  associating  with 
Eegena  Steele,  who  has  also  been  forced  to  earn  her  own 
finery  and  gewgaws  by  "  that  miserable  liquor  law,7'  as 
she  calls  it. 

Hattie  Gray  has,  at  last,  become  convinced  that  step- 
mothers are  not  necessarily  monsters.  She  is  at  home, 
enjoying  life  ;  and  rumor  whispers  that,  somewhere  in 
the  future,  she  is  looking  for  a  happy  home  which  shall 
be  all  her  own.  Elida,  the  sly  rogue,  enjoys  inquiring 
after  her  brother  Henry,  often,  and  wonders  if  he  is  as 
bashful  as  ever. 

"  It  would  be  funny  if  he  should  take  a  fancy  to  me 
when  I  am  old  enough  —  wouldn't  it,  IIa,ttie  ?  -How 
should  you  like  me  for  a  sister  ?  Let's  see  :  you  like 
'im  (as  Ann  would  say)  better  than  you  did  —  don't 
you  ?  How  funny  it  sounds  to  hear  her  say,  '  J  'ate 
'im'  (old  Mr.. Giles).  Rather  tough  eating,  I  imagine.  It 
had  the  effect  of  making  her  cross.  Why,  how  hand- 
some you  look  when  your  cheeks  are  red  I  " 

"  You  are  a  perfect  little  tease,"  said  Ilattie  ono 
day ;  "  but  nobody  can  get  angry  with  you.  But  if  I 
should  act  so,  folks  wouldn't  bear  it." 

"  Well,  I  know  it ;  I  was  born  so,  and  you  weren't  — 
that  makes  the  difference.  You  shall  come  and  live  with 
Henry  and  me.  Now,  don't  tell  auntie  I  am  talking  about 
such  things :  she  will  look  so "  (drawing  down  her 
face).  "  I  had  rather  she  would  whip  me,"  she  said,  as 
Hester  stepped  in  at  the  door  to  call  her  to  finish  some 
work  she  had  left  half  done.  "  0,  I  am  going  to  do 
it !  I  will  have  it  done  in  a  moment,  auntie,  darling. 


310  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE   WO  UK. 

You  know  Sunshine  is  always  dancing  around  —  don't 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  "  and  that  is  what  makes  so 
many  shadows  and  clouds."  Thus  the  merry  girl  moved 
on  without  the  many  cares  and  sorrows  which  constantly 
harassed  Winnie  and  Mary  F. 

There  is  a  little  Mason  at  Mr.  Giles'.  Unie  is  father's 
girl  now,  and  Master  Mason  belongs  to  aunt  Ann,  while 
little  speck  of  baby  sleeps  in  mamma's  bosom.  Mr. 
Lovering  patted  Elevia  on  the  cheek,  as  he  peeped  in  at 
the  wee  thing,  saying,  — 

"  My  daughter,  I  think  the  second  crop  of  smiles  and 
roses  which  came  back  to  you,  after  we  gave  you  up, 
look  quite  as  pretty  and  interesting  as  the  earlier  crop. 
Mr.  Giles,  you  haven't  allowed  the  frost  to  nip  them  — 
have  you  ? " 

"  I  have  tried  to  preserve  them,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but 
Elevia  has  a  good  deal  to  put  up  with  now.  Old  habits 
stick  to  me,  and  always  will." 

"  I  haven't  complained  —  have  I  ?  "  said  Elevia,  tak- 
ing his  brown  hand  tenderly  in  hers,  and  smiling  up  into 
his  face. 

"  No,  you  haven't ;  but  you  have  had  reason  to, 
often." 

"  I  didn't  know  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  wish  no  one 
had  more  reason  to  complnin  than  I." 

"  0,  you  are  doing  well,  "  said  grandpa.  "  What 
shall  you  call  this  little  lump  here  ?  " 

"  We  call  her  Annie  T.  Isn't  it  a  pretty  name  ?  "  said 
Elevia. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  it  is  ;  but  how  did  you  know  I 
shouldn't  want  to  name  her  after  my  Lizzie  here  ?  "  said 
grandpa,  laughing. 


FOSTINA'S    MISSION.  311 

"  Why,  bless  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  happy  little 
•'woman,  "I  shouldn't  want  you  to  name  her  that.  I 
won't  have  a  rival,  no  ways  at  all,  you  see.  But  how 
does  Ann  like  her  namesake  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  0,  she  is  evidently  pleased,"  said  Elevia ;  "  but  no 
one  is  equal  to  little  Mason." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  said  grandma,  "don't  begin  to  call 
him  '  little  Mason.'  Everybody  in  town  will  be  calling 
him  '  little  Mason,'  and  then  there  will  be  '  big  Mason/ 
you  see  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  they  will,  mother.  How  shall  we  man- 
age ?  " 

"  Call  him  by  his  middle  name,  or  Mason  Edward.  If 
I  were  you,  I  should  call  him  Eddie.  0,  here  is  Miss 
Ann." 

"You  needn't  'Miss'  me,"  said  Ann,  with  a  dry 
laugh.  "  I'm  'ere,  you  see." 

"  Yes,  I  see  ;  you  have  a  pretty  little  namesake  here, 
too;  I  am  almost  jealous  of  you." 

"Needn't  be;  do'n'o  w'at  they  named  'er  that  for; 
'omely  name  'nuff:  I  didn't  ask  urn  to." 

"  It's  a  pretty  name,"  said  Mrs.  Levering,  decidedly. 
"  Ann,  you  shan't  slander  the  baby  so.  Did  you  have  a 
good  visit  in —  ?  " 

"  I  s'pose  so ;  I  missed  this  youngster,"  said  Ann, 
hugging  him  to  her  bosom. 

"  Yes,"  said  Elevia,  "  and  he  missed  her  so  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do."  Ann  gave  the  little  fellow  another 
hug. 

"  Did  ye  miss  'er,  ducky  —  did  ye  ?  Well,  aunt  Ann 
shan't  go  agin,  I  promise  ye,  ducky." 

"  Muson  get  the  horse,  and  take  aunt  Ann  to  ride," 
•aid  I'M'  li.iy.  "Mason  drive." 


312  IIESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  That's  a  man,"  said  Ann. 

"  Did  you  see  old  Mrs.  Lentell  while  there  ?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Levering. 

"  Yes,  she's  broke  'er  leg ;  good  'nuff  for  her,  I 
s'pose." 

"Broken  her  leg!"  said  Elevia;  "why,  you  didn't 
tell  me  of  it." 

"  Didn't  mean  to,  nuther.  I  s'posed  ye'd  want  to 
go  an'  nuss  'er,  or  suthin',  the  whole  on  ye." 

"  Well,  we  must  love  our  enemies,  Ann  ;  the  Bible 
says  so,"  said  Elevia,  "  and  forgive  them  as  we  hope  to 
be  forgiven.  But  I  don't  think  I  am  good  enough  to 
want  to  go  and  take  care  jof  her.  How  did  it  hap- 
pen ?  " 

"  She  was  goin'  acrost  to  git  some  fillin'  for  a  web 
she's  weaviu'  for  'Errick's  folks,  an'  fell  a-crossin'  the 
brook.  Pity  'twarn't  her  neck,  though !  She  kep  'er 
old  'ead  out  o'  water,  an'  'ollered  an'  'ollered ;  but  no- 
body- 'card  'er  but  'Errick's  wife." 

"  How  far  was  it  from  Mr.  Herrick's  ?  "  said  Elevia. 

"  Quarter  'v  a  mile,  or  so,  I  s'pose.  She  better  put 
'er  'ead  under,  an'  done  with  it.  I  'ate  'er,  if  the  rest 
on  ye  don't."  After  she  left  the  room,  Mrs.  Levering 
inquired,  — 

"  Don't  you  feel  afraid  Eddie  will  imitate  Ann's 
speech  and  character  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Elevia,  "  I  do.  I  shall  try  to  guard 
against  it.  So  far  I  have  had  no  trouble.  But  I  can  see 
that  the  child  is  doing  her  good.  Poor  Ann,  I  never  sup- 
posed she  would  ever  love  or  be  loved.  She  is  very  much 
changed.  You  see  she  uses  three  words  where  she  for- 
merly used  one.  Truly,  kindnesss  is  a  powerful  iustru- 


FOSTINA'S    MISSION.  313 

mcnt  for  good.  But  Ann's  affections  were  so  chilled  and 
blighted  when  young,  and  her  heart  so  sealed  up,  as  it 
were,  by  cruel,  unkind  treatment,  that  she  will  never  get 
over  it.  It  seemed  as  if  she  grudged  every  word,  and 
was  afraid  the  old  crust  would  be  broken  up.  Last 
night  I  was  affected  to  tears  when  Mason  Eddie  (you 
see  I  profit  by  your  suggestion)  went  to  her,  and 
said,  — 

"  '  Hear  Mason  pray,  aunt  Ann.'  She  don't  allow  him 
to  say  auntie. 

"  '  0  Lordy  !  '  said  she,  '  I  guess  I  can't.  There,  lit- 
tle Mason  mustn't  say  Lordy  ;  it's  a  bad  word.  Aunt 
Ann  must  be  whipped  if  she  says  it  again.  Kneel  down 
an'  say  it,  little  man.  He  knows  —  don't  he  ?  '  He 
folded  his  baby  hands,  and  said  it  very  reverently.  Ann 
listened,  and  sighed  deeply  when  it  was  over.  '  She 
learned  me  to  say  that,  too,'  she  almost  whispered, 
bending  over  the  child. 

"  '  Did  she  ?  '  said  he  ;  '  it  is  a  nice  little  prayer  — 
isn't  it,  aunt  Ann  ?  '  Who  was  she  ? 

"'0!  (the  Lordy  didn't  come  that  time),  — '  0,  it 
was  my  mother  —  my  mother,  ducky  !  I  'ad  a  mother 
like  you,  once,  little  man,  an'  I  loved  'er,  as  you  do.' 

"  '  I  am  sorry,'  said  the  child,  supposing,  by  Ann's 
manner,  it  was  a  great  trouble  that  she  was  talking 
about,  —  '  I'm  sorry  ;  don't  feel  bad,  aunt  Ann  ;  you 
shan't  have  another  mother  next  time.  My  mother  shall 
be  your  mother,  aunt  Ann ;  and  I  am  your  little  boy 
—  ain't  I  ?  ' 

"'Yes  —  yes;  there  now,  run  in,  an'  kiss  'er,  as  I 
used  to.  1  wish  them  days  was  back  agin  —  I  do.  I 
wuru't  such  an  old  hackmatack,  then.' 


314  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  '  ITatch-ma-tatch !  '  said  the  child  —  '  what  is  that  ? 
Hatch-ma-tatch  —  how  funny  !  '  Ann  laughed,  and 
waited  for  him  to  kiss  me  good  night.  She  didn't  know 
I  overheard  her.  '  A  little  child  shall  lead  them/  you 
see.  I  hope  Ann  will  be  benefited,  without  injuring  the 
child.  Mr.  Wiley's  folks  were  not  at  all  pleased  with 
the  idea  of  Ann's  making  her  home  with  us.  They  lay 
it  to  mercenary  motives.  They  give  us  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  ;  but  there,  we  must  have  trouble  of  some  kind  ; 
and  it  is  so  much  better  to  have  it  out  of  the  house  than 
in  it —  out  of  the  heart  than  in  it." 

"  Yes,  you  may  well  say  that,"  was  the  reply.  "  Isn't 
it  pleasant  to  think  that  God  understands  our  motives, 
if  our  fellow-men  do  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  comfort;  yet  how  much  of  sin  and  im- 
perfection he  sees  in  these  hearts  of  ours  !  "  said  Elevia. 
"I  am  glad,"  she  continued,  "that  Winnie  has  finished 
going  to  school.  Envena  has  been  a  constant  trial  to 
her." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  grandma.  "  Isn't  -it  strange  that 
she  will  let  her  tease  and  fret  her  so  ?  Why  don't  she 
cut  her  acquaintance,  and  have  nothing  to  say  to  her  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  Strange  to  say,  she  loves 
her  still,  and  thinks  she  doesn't  mean  anything.  And  yet 
that  naughty  girl  has  told  every  boy  and  girl  in  the  vil- 
lage about  her  father's  actions,  and  insinuated  some 
things  which  were  not  true.  She  is  the  most  deceitful 
child  I  ever  saw,  and  yet  she  is  the  most  innocent,  sin- 
cere-appearing one  in  the  world.  For  some  reason,  best 
known  to  herself,  she  admires,  caresses,  and  flatters 
Winnie  in  her  presence,  and  slanders  her  behind  her 
back.  She  slights  her  shamefully  in  company,  and  then, 


FOSTINA'S    MISSION.  315 

by  skilful  management,  convinces  the  child  that  she  didn't 
mean  to  —  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  —  is  grieved 
that  Winnie  should  think  so.  I  am  vexed  with  her. 
She  humors  Arm,  and  thinks  just  as  she  does  when  in  her 
sight,  and  makes  all  manner  of  fun  of  her  at  other  times. 
1  think  she  hates  my  children  ;  and  yet  she  makes  a  great 
deal  of  Mason  Eddie,  to  please  Ann.  I  don't  know  what 
will  become  of  her.  She  brings  various  stories  to  Ann 
about  Winnie.  I  was  pleased  to  hear  Ann  tell  her  the 
other  day  that  '  Win  was  as  good  as  she  was,  an'  'nuff 
sight  better.'  I  have  thought  her  envious  of  Winnie  on 
account  of  her  position  in  Mr.  Trueman's  family.  I 
hope  Winnie  will  sujcceed  well  in  teaching." 

"  I  do  hope  she  will,"  said  Mrs.  Levering  ;  "  she  will 
be  faithful,  I  know.  I  am  glad  her  prospects  are  so 
bright ;  she  deserves  it,  I  am  sure.  And  there  isn't  a 
person  living  who  would  make  a  more  suitable  compan- 
ion for  her  than  Howard  Trueman.  Why,  she  is  one  of 
a  thousand.  No  one  can  help  seeing  how  superior  she 
is  to  Erivena.  Isn't  that  what  makes  her  torment  Win- 
nie so,  think  you  ?  " 

"Perhaps  it  is,"  said  Elevia,  with  a  troubled  look. 
"  She  is  very  intimate  at  Mr.  Trueman's.  They  received 
her  at  first  as  Winnie's  friend  ;  but  they  think  a  great 
<l"al  of  her  now.  She  is  there  oftener  than  Winnie.  I 
never  thought  of  it  before  ;  but  I  do  believe  she  is  in 
some  way  supplanting  her.  She  is  capable  of  doing  al- 
most anything  which  can  be  accomplished  by  intrigue 
and  deception,  and  she  not  twenty.  Why,  when  she  is 
here,  I  can't  help  believing  her  truthful,  she  seems  so 
tender  and  affectionate,  her  voice  is  so  low  and  pleasant ; 
and  yet  I  have  good  reason  to  think  her  very  deceptive. 


316  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

She  is  a  dangerous  girl  —  I  never  knew  bow  dangerous 
until  I  watched  her  intercourse  with  Winnie.  She  has 
tried  to  prejudice  Mason  and  me  against  her,  but  in  such 
a  way  that  I  never  could  tell  any  one  just  how." 

"  Well,  I  should  think  she  was  artful  and  envious," 
said  Mrs.  Lovering.  "I  hope  she  won't  cause  Winnie 
any  serious  trouble.  Why  should  she  aim  her  venomous 
shafts  at  her  ?  What  has  she  done  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  partly  owing  to  Winnie's  superiority,  as 
you  suggested,"  said  Elevia  ;  "  and  then,  before  Winnie 
came  here,  Envena  had  the  whole  ground  —  was  quite  a 
pet.  I  came  to  see  that  she  was  expecting  favors  from 
Mason  as  well  as  Ann  ;  and  now  Mason  and  Ann  think 
there  is  no  one  quite  equal  to  Winnie.  She  knows  we 
have  helped  to  educate  her  ;  and  Ann  actually  bought  her 
a  white  muslin  dress  and  blue  sash  for  examination-day. 
I  was  astonished.  Winnie  cried  when  she  thrust  it  into 
her  lap,  saying,  — 

"  '  Take  it,  an'  wear  it  'zamination-day,  an'  ye  will.  I 
didn't  'ave  no  sich  day,  nor  dress,  nuther.  I  wish  I  'ad, 
though.' 

"  Winnie  looked  up  into  the  hard,  cold  face,  with  the 
kindness  creeping  out  of  the  eyes  in  spite  of  Ann's 
efforts  to  conceal  it,  bowed  her  head  over  the  package, 
and  burst  into  tears.  'Don't  want  it  —  do  ye?'  said 
Ann,  trying  to  speak  in  her  usual  dry,  cold  manner. 
'  Well,  Vene  would  tell  as  many  lies  as  ye've  got  fingers 
to  git  it ;  but  Ann  ain't  a  fool,  if  she  docs  act  like  one. 
So  wipe  up,  an'  make  yer  dress,  an'  wear  it.  It's  well 
'nuff  for  folks  that's  true  an'  honest  to  wear  w'ite  once 
in  a  w'ile.'  Ann  brushed  out  of  the  room,  and  slammed 
the  door,  before  Winnie  could  control  her  feelings  suffi- 
ciently to  speak. 


FOSTINA'S    MISSION.  31 7 

"'She  isn't  angry  —  is  she?'  said  Winnie.  'I  am 
sorry  I  cried ;  but  it  was  so  unexpected  !  and  then  it 
came  over  me  how  hard  Ann's  life  had  been  compared 
with  mine  ;  and  I  have  had  trials.  Poor  Ann  !  I  must  try 
to  be  patient  with  her.  0,  auntie,  why  has  my  life  been 
so  full  of  privileges  and  blessings  more  than  I  deserve  ?  ' 
There,  I  have  told  you  quite  a  story.  Mason  and  father 
are  corning  in,  and  I  guess  I  have  talked  enough  for 
once." 

"  Why,  so  you  have,  child.  I  ought  to  have  known 
better.  Well,  there,  it  is  just  like  me." 

"  0,  no  harm  done,  I  think.  I  shall  soon  rest.  Isn't 
it  pleasant  to  see  how  much  Mason  and  father  think  of 
each  other  ?  " 


318  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER     XXXIII. 

SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOWS. — DECEPTION  UNVEILED. 

SEVERAL  years  later.  Winnie  has  succeeded,  as  a 
teacher,  beyond  the  expectations  of  her  most  sanguine 
friends.  Her  engagement  with  Howard  Trueman  is  sup- 
posed to  be  a  settled  fact.  She  is  established  as  teacher 
in  the  village  high  school,  with  a  generous  salary. 

"  I  have  only  two  real  causes  for  anxiety,"  she  says 
to  Hester.  "  Wallace  is  in  good  hands,  and  is  doing 
well ;  and  Mary  F.  is  a  darling  bird,  only  a  mite  too  sad 
for  a  child.  But  there  is  father  —  no  better  of  his  terri- 
ble habit.  They  say  he  leaves  no  means  untried  to  get 
rum,  selling  the  very  clothes  I  give  him  for  it  ;  getting  it 
most  of  the  time  now,  when  it  is  so  difficult  to  be  obtained, 
and  drinking  cider  when  he  cannot  get  rum.  This  is  dis- 
couraging ;  it  is  hard,  but  it  don't  wear  me  as  it  did  —  I 
actually  forget  it  sometimes.  But  Elida's  determination 
to  work  in  that  city  mill  worries  me  more  and  more.  It  is 
so  needless  !  She  is  so  young,  and  thoughtless,  and  pret- 
ty !  — just  the  one  to  be  tempted.  I  have  no  faith  in 
Clara  or  Regena  ;  they  are  giddy,  vain,  and  frivolous. 
It  is  strange  she  can  like  them  for  companions." 

"  I  know  it,  Winnie,"  said  Hester.  "  I  would  like  to 
have  it  otherwise  ;  but  she  was  so  desirous  of  going,  I 
thought  it  best  to  permit  it.  I  hoped  it  wouldn't  last 
long.  But  I  think  you  need  not  feel  anxious.  She  is  a 


SUNSHINE    AND    SHADOWS.  319 

girl  of  sterling-  principle,  and  as  farm  as  a  rock,  though 
not  a  Christian.  And  I  can  trust  her  to  buffet  the  waves 
of  temptation  which  will  meet  her  in  the  city ;  for  I 
mean  to  keep  fast  hold  of  the  overruling  hand,  by  prayer 
seasoned  with  faith." 

"  But,  auntie,  isn't  she  trusting  in  herself  ?  and  are 
\ve  ever  safe  when  we  do  that  ?  If  she  were  trusting  in 
God,  she  would  be  secure.  But  since  you  have  so  much 
faith,  I  suppose  I  ought  to." 

"  Who  was  it  that  said  there  were  two  sorts  of  things 
he  never  allowed  to  trouble  him  —  those  things  which  he 
could  help,  and  those  he  could  not  help  ?  Let  that  be 
your  motto,  Winnie.  You  can't  prevent  }7our  father's 
drinking,  nor  Elida's  going  to  the  mill." 

"  Perhaps  not,  auntie,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  recently, 
I  feel  as  if  I  might  have  helped  to  save  my  father,  if  I 
had  been  more  self-denying." 

"  llow  could  you,  Winnie  ?  "  said  Martha  ;  "  I  should 
about  as  soon  expect  to  raise  the  dead." 

"  Well,"  said  Winnie,  warmly,  "  that  almost  seems  to 
be  done,  sometimes.  Think  of  aunt  Elevia ;  you  said  it 
was  like  raising  one  from  the  dead  then." 

"  I  know  I  said  so  ;  and  it  was.  But  how  would  you 
begin  to  reform  your  father  ?  You  couldn't  get  near 
him,"  said  Martha. 

"  Aunt  Martha,  have  you  forgotten  how  often  grandpa 
used  to  say,  '  You  must  have  more  faith,  child  :  nothing 
is  too  hard  for  (Jod  "  ? 

"  Yes,  I  remember  it,  Winnie.  I  know  I  fail  there  ; 
but  we  must  have  just  a  little  of  something  to  hang  our 
faith  on,  or  pin  it  to  —  mustn't  we  ?  before  we  expect  to 
accomplish  any  great  thing." 


320  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE   WORK. 

"Yes,"  said  Winnie,  reverently ;  "our  Saviour  says, 
1  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  my  name,  believing,  ye  shall 
receive.'  Now  I  have  prayed  enough  to  save  father. 
0,  yes  !  I  have  literally  wet  my  couch  with  my  tears 
for  him  ;  but  that  wasn't  enough  in  this  case.  If  father 
should  cry  to  God  for  help,  as  I  have  cried  for  him,  God 
would  reach  out  his  hand  and  pluck  him  as  a  brand  from 
the  burning.  But  I  had  something  more  to  do.  My 
faith  and  works  should  have  gone  hand  in  hand.  I  should 
have  braved  all,  and  gone  to  him,  and  led  him  back  to 
God  and  virtue.  In  his  strength  we  can  do  all  things. 
How  I  have  longed  to  go  !  But  the  fear  of  aunt  Abigail 
and  grandmother  has  clung  to  me,  even  now  that  my 
childhood  is  gone.  If  I  were  at  liberty  again,  I  would 
go  ;  but  I  have  entered  upon  the  work  which  I  think  God 
has  given  me,  and  since  my  kind  friends  have  prepared 
me  for  it,  I  feel  that  it  would  be  ungrateful  to  leave  it. 
I  hope  I  shall  do  good  where  I  am  ;  but  I  sometimes 
query  —  '  Am  I  doing  right  ?  Have  I  done  right  ?  '  I 
wish  I  could  know.  Besides,"  she  continued,  "  I  have  let 
that  opportunity  slip.  I  could  have  done  more  for  him 
as  a  child  —  he  loved  children." 

Mary  F.  had  listened  attentively  to  this  conversation. 
Her  color  came  and  went. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  "  said  Hester.  "  Winnie,  we  must 
be  careful  not  to  introduce  this  topic  often  :  you  see  my 
wise  little  girl  thii  ':s  too  much  now." 

Ah  !  they  little  knew  how  much  she  thought.  One 
great,  earnest,  pervading  thought  was  wearing  out  the 
life  of  the  lovely  child,  and  making  her  prematurely  old. 

"  Let  us  change  the  subject,"  said  Hester.  "  You  are 
going  to  Commencement  of  course." 


SUNSHINE    AND    SHADOWS.  321 

"  I  don't  know,  auntie.  Howard  wrote  me  to  come 
by  all  means  ;  but  I  feel  some  hesitation  about  it.  If  he 
should  fail  in  speaking,  —  and  the  best  do  sometimes  on 
those  occasions,  —  I  should  feel  badly.  Envena  told  Lucy 
she  would  not  fail  of  being  there  for  the  world,  it  would 
be  such  a  rich  treat  to  hear  Howard's  graduating  piece. 
Of  course,  she  said,  it  would  be  splendid.  And  I  pre- 
sume it  will.  I  know  he  is  capable  of  writing  an  ora- 
tion. I  wish  she  wouldn't  compliment  Howard  so  much ; 
it  discomposes  me  strangely  —  when  she  does  it,  no 
doubt,  to  please  me." 

Hester  had  dropped  her  work,  and  was  looking  over 
her  glasses  into  Winnie's  face,  with  a  mournful,  tender 
Iqok. 

"  Did  you  say  Envena  was  going  to  Commencement  ? 
How  is  she  going  ?  " 

"  She  said  Lucy  told  her  that  if  I  didn't  go,  they  would 
cany  her.  But  what  makes  you  look  at  me  so,  auntie  ?  " 
said  Winnie,  blushing.  "  I'm  not  jealous  —  indeed  I  am 
not.  I  don't  wonder  that  they  like  Envena  best.  She  is 
so  much  more  agreeable,  and  can  express  her  thoughts 
and  feelings  so  beautifully  !  I  don't  blame  them  —  hon- 
estly I  don't ;  and  as  long  as  Howard  is  true,  I  can  get 
along." 

"  Child,  you  don't  think  of  giving  up  your  chance  to 
her  —  do  you  ?  when  the  invitation  is  a  year  old  or  more, 
ami  it  has  been  renewed  so  often,  to  my  knowledge,  that 
it  is  not  outlawed.  You  are  going ;  so  don't  say  a  word 
against  it.  What  a  disappointment  it  would  be  to  How- 
ard if  you  were  not  then- !  " 

"  But,  aunti'%"  was  th    ter-rful  reply,  "  wouM  3-011  like 
to  go  when  you  knew  they  would  prefer  another  ?  " 
21 


322  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Winnie,"  said  Hester,  "  I  don't  believe  they  would. 
I  don't  believe  it.  They  would  feel  hurt  if  you  shouldn't 
go.  Just  you  tell  them  frankly  what  she  says,  and  see 
what  they  will  say." 

"  0,  auntie,  I  couldn't,  it  would  be  so  rude." 

"  It  was  rude  in  her  to  tell  you,"  said  Hester,  "  and  I 
hope  that  is  all.  But,  child,  I  don't  believe  they  said  so. 
How  can  you  think  so  much  of  that  girl,  when  she  has 
wounded  your  feelings  so  terribly,  and  slighted  you  so 
often  ? " 

"  Why,  auntie,  you  know  she  always  explains  every- 
thing so,  and  I  find  that  I  have  been  too  sensitive,  or 
credulous,  or  something.  I  don't  mean  to  tell  you  of 
her  next  time.  You  don't  love  her,  and  I  am  the  cause 
of  it." 

Hester  sighed,  and  worked  on  busily  for  half  an  hour; 
and  then  putting  on  her  things,  she  said,  — 

"  I  am  going  to  make  some  calls,  Winnie.  Help  aunt 
Martha  about  tea ;  I  shan't  be  at  home." 

Hester  walked  with  a  firm,  resolute  step,  as  usual 
when  on  important  business.  She  found  Mrs.  Trueman 
alone.  Lucy  and  Envena  were  taking  a  walk,  she  said. 

"  I  have  come  to  speak  to  you  about  her/'  said  Hester, 
rather  abruptly.  "  Do  you  thiuk  she  is  a  fit  companion 
for  Lucy  ?  How  do  you  like  her  ?  " 

Mrs.  Trueman  looked  up  with  surprise. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  "  what  do  you  mean,  Hester  ?  I 
thought  you  admired  her.  She  is  always  telling  some- 
thing you  have  said  in  her  praise,  or  praising  you,  and 
Winnie  is  very  fond  of  her." 

"  That  is  the  trouble,"  said  Hester.  "  Winnie  is  per- 
fectly infatuated  with  her.  She  slanders  her,  slights  her, 


DECEPTION    UNVEILED.  323 

and  wounds  her  continually,  and  yet  the  poor  child  can't 
see  that  she  is  a  snake  in  the  grass.  She  will  sting  her 
to  death,  I  fear,  and  then  make  the  dear  child  think  it 
was  a  mercy,  an  act  of  condescension.  And  Winnie  is 
not  alone  in  her  infatuation." 

"  Why,  you  astonish  me  !  "  said  Mrs.  Trueman.  "  If 
any  one  else  were  talking  in  that  way,  I  should  call  it 
base  slander.  I  know  you  have  reasons  for  what  you 
say.  Will  you  tell  me  some  of  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  emphatic  reply. 

She  then  told  her  what  Envena  had  said  concerning 
Commencement,  and  how  Winnie  was  feeling  ;  how  she 
had  gained  Winnie's  confidence,  and  then  divulged  her 
secrets,  maliciously  informing  the  school  children  of  all 
the  circumstances  of  Winnie's  childhood,  coloring  and 
exaggerating  shamefully,  when  the  truth  was  bad  enough. 

"  You  astonish  me,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman,  thoughtfully. 
"  She  told  us  confidentially  that  some  one,  she  knew  not 
who,  had  told  these  stories  all  around.  And  really,  Hes- 
ter, she  did  seem  sorry  and  grieved  about  it.  She  said 
it  was  injuring  Winnie  very  much  —  it  was  shameful, 
&c.  I  told  her  Winnie  was  to  be  pitied  for  this,  but 
not  blamed." 

"  There,"  said  Hester,  "  that  accounts  for  one  story. 
She  told  some  one  that  you  made  a  great  deal  of  Winnie 
out  of  pity,  that  was  all.  I  tell  you  her  sympathy  waa 
put  on  —  a  mask,  and  nothing  more.  Siie  reported  those 
stories  ;  I  have  traced  them  all  to  her.  I  have  had  my 
eye  on  her  these  two  years,  closely.  As  for  saying  any- 
thing in  her  favor,  I  wish  I  could;  but  I  can't.  I  have 
been  in  the  family,  you  know.  She  is  artful  naturally, 
ami  her  (raining  —  all  ,^-he  gets  —  is  in  9110  direction.  I 


324  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

couldn't  bear  it  a  moment  longer.  Just  look  at  it ! 
What  an  adept !  Tell  the  stones  with  additions  and  va- 
riations, and  then  come  with  a  lamentation  in  her  mouth, 
and  all  to  prepare  the  way  for  making  an  impression 
favorable  to  herself.  Is  that  all  ?  I  am  prepared  for 
anything  now.  She  has  gone  beyond  my  expectations. 
How  about  Commencement  ?  Did  you  really  prefer  her 
company  to  Winnie's  ?  " 

"  You  must  let  me  collect  my  scattered  senses,"  was 
the  reply.  "What  I  have  learned  shocks  me.  Only 
that  I  know  you  to  be  above  such  meanness,  I  could  not 
believe  you.  I  remember  her  expressing  astonishment 
that  Winnie  did  not  care  to  go,  &c.,  and  that  she  was 
not  more  interested  in  Howard's  success.  But,"  she 
added,  "  Winnie  is  a  dear  good  girl.  I  suppose  she  is 
BO  absorbed  in  her  school  that  she  can't  think  of  any- 
thing else ;  and,  perhaps,"  she  added,  lowering  her  voice 
almost  to  a  whisper,  "  she  is  too  much  absorbed  in  some- 
thing else." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Lucy,  sharply. 

"  0,  nothing  !  I  presume  it  isn't  anything.  You 
know  stories  will  fly.  I  didn't  mean  to  speak  of  it." 

"  Of  course  it  isn't  anything,"  said  I;  "  but  of  what 
are  you  thinking  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  new  minister.  I  don't  think  there  is  any- 
thing in  it.  I  have  heard  it  spoken  of." 

"  I  believe  she  is  the  first  and  only  one  that  ever  spoke 
of  it,"  said  Hester,  quite  indignantly.  "  He  is  school 
committee.  Go  on  ;  what  next  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  have,  told  you  enough,"  was  the  smiling 
reply.  "  You  have  given  me  a  key  that  will  unlock  a 
good  many  mysteries.  I  thank  you  very  much.  Then 


DECEPTION    UNVEILED.  325 

Winnie  thinks  we  don't  love  her,  and  that  accounts  for 
her  shyness  lately.  She  don't  blame  us,  you  say,  dear 
child  !  I  should  blame  myself  if  I  did  not,  for  she  is 
truly  lovely,  and  every  way  worthy.  Now  I  think  of  it, 
I  fear  Envena  has  succeeded  in  partially  alienating  Lucy 
from  her.  But  Lucy  is  very  sincere  ;  and  when  I  un- 
lock that  dark  chamber,  and  let  her  look  into  Envena's 
heart,  she  will  be  cured.  0,  there  is  one  thing  I  do  not 
understand  !  She  said  she  heard  there  were  some  ter- 
rible mysteries  about  Winnie's  birth.  I  never  could 
think  to  ask  you.'7 

"There  is  nothing  mysterious  about, the  child  or  her 
birth  which  you  did  not  know.  You  know  her  as  well 
as  I  do,  and  I  know  her  better  than  she  knows  herself. 
She  is  good  enough  for  a  king,"  said  Hester,  with  unu- 
sual asperity.  "  And  so  she  reported  that  Mr.  Lentell 
was  in  jail  for  killing  his  wife,  or  some  other  terrible 
crime." 

"  Well,  I  have  heard  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman. 
"  What  shall  I  do,  Hester  ?  Can  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  recovering  her  equanimity  ;  "  I 
want  Envena  to  go  to  Commencement.  Let  her  ride 
with  you." 

"  No  ;  I  can't  do  that.  Winnie  must  ride  with  us. 
Why,  I  shouldn't  dare  to  see  Howard  without  her.  I 
really  think  the  disappointment  would  cause  him  to  fail. 
I  can't  hear  to  that." 

"  Well,  hear  rne  out,"  said  Hester.  "  It  is  half  a 
century  since  I  attended  those  meetings.  You  know 
why  I  went  then,"  she  said.  "It  don't  seem  so  long, 
and  yet  it  docs  seem  longer.  Well,  no  matter  for  me, 
now.  I  want  to  see  Howard  graduate,  and  I  shall  go, 


326  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

and  carry  Winnie.  We  shall  have  to  spend  the  night ; 
but  no  matter.  I  would  do  more  than  that  to  make 
Winnie  and  Iloward  happy,  and  I  don't  mean  that  the 
sharpest  and  most  skilful  actor  shall  separate  those  chil- 
dren. Haven't  I  known  them  both  ever  since  they  were 
born  ?  I  ought  to  ;  I  dressed  them  both  in  their  first 
suits.  I  tell  you  they  were  made  for  each  other,  and 
nothing  but  God  shall  separate  them  in  my  day,  if  I  can 
help  it.  Well,  I  was  going  to  say,  she  shall  ride  over 
with  me,  and  Envcna  can  ride  with  you.  Howard  must 
drive  Winnie  home,  and  you  must  give  me  a  seat  in  your 
carriage.  Will  you  do  this,  and  promise  not  to  tell  any 
one  that  we  are  going  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  no  objection  to  it.  I  should  like  to  have 
you  there,  and  Howard  would,  and  he  will  be  delighted 
with  your  arrangements  generally." 

"  Very  well.  Now  keep  your  eyes  open,"  said  Hes- 
ter, as  she  kissed  Mrs.  Trueman  good  by ;  "  and  keep 
your  own  counsel." 

"  Winnie  is  not  going  with  us,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman, 
when  the  girls  returned  from  their  walk. 

"  Why  not?  Then  you  can  go,  Envena,"  said  Lucy, 
without  waiting  for  a  reply  to  her  question. 

"  Thank  you — thank  you  ever  so  much.  I  thought 
Winnie  didn't  care  to  go.  Isn't  it  strange  ?  She  is 
afraid  he  will  fail,  and  she  will  be  mortified.  Why,  I 
shouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing."  Lucy  bit  her  lip. 

"  I'll  risk  him,"  she  said.  "  I  guess  he  knows  as 
much  as  Mr.  Ehvood.  I  don't  like  to  hear  him  preach 
as  well  as  I  did}  he  isn't  much."  Mrs.  Trueman  was 
not  troubled  with  any  more  questions  about  Winnie  ;  but 
she  thought  sadly  of  the  injuries  the  sweet  girl  had 


DECEPTION    UNVEILED.  327 

received  from  one  she  loved  and  trusted.  She  saw  plainly 
that,  as  far  as  Lucy  was  concerned,  the  poison  had  taken 
effect.  She  felt  thankful  for  Hester's  timely  interference, 
and  doubted  not  that  she  should  be  able  to  set  Lucy  all 
right  when  the  time  came.  Envena  looked  very  sweet, 
sitting  on  the  back  seat  between  Lucy  and  Susy.  She 
was  ''  sorry,  very  sorry,  Winnie  wouldn't  go."  She 
was  "  afraid  she  would  regret  it.  I  should  think  she 
would,  at  least.  I  tried  to  persuade  her  to  go." 

"  What  reason  did  she  give  for  not  going  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Trucman. 

"  0,  perhaps  I  had  better  not  tell  ;  she  wouldn't  want 
me  to.  But  I  think  it  was  mostly  fear  that  he  wouldn't 
succeed  as  well  as  some." 

"  She  needn't  worry,"  said  Lucy,  with  unusual  spite. 

"Lucy  don't  understand  it,"  said  Mr.  Trueman,  smil- 
ing. "  It  was  the  intensity  of  Winnie's  affection  that 
made  her  feel  so.  She  is  so  anxious  he  should  excel 
that  she  fears  for  him.  I  feel  so  myself;  it  destroys 
half  of  my  pleasure.  And  this  is  a  beautiful  day  ;  the 
horses  are  in  good 'trim,  and  everything  just  right,  ex- 
cept I  would  like  to  see  Winnie's  sweet,  intelligent  face 
peeping  modestly  out  of  the  carnage  once  in  a  while. 
Linnie,  why  didn't  you  persuade  her  to  go  ?  Howard 
could  return  home  in  the  cars  as  usual.  I  did  not 
think  of  it.  What  reasons  did  she  give  for  not  going 
with  us?" 

"  0,  several,"  was  the  reply,  as  she  gave  her  husband 
a  sign  to  be  silent  upon  the  subject.  When  they  put  up 
to  rest  their  horses,  she  enlightened  him  concerning 
Hester's  plan,  saying,  "  I  can't  stop  to  explain  now.  I 
should  have  told  you  last  night,  only  you  were  out  late.'' 


328  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  I  am  glad  she  will  bo  there,"  he  said.  "  I  don't 
like  that  girl.  She  is  too  smooth  to  suit  me  ;  she  would 
flatter  any  one  to  death."  Mrs.  Trueman  smiled,  as  she 
thought  how  easy  it  was  for  short-sighted  persons  to  see, 
when  their  glasses  were  properly  adjusted.  She  whis- 
pered Hester's  secret  into  Howard's  ear  at  the  earliest 
possible  moment.  He  smiled,  and  said,  — 

"  All  right,  mother ;  I  am  glad  aunt  Hester  can  be 
here.  Isn't  she  good  for  planning  ?  I  have  been  dis- 
gusted with  that  girl  for  a  long  time,  she  assumes  so  much 
interest  in  me.  But  you  say  I  don't  know  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  I  didn't  till  very  recently.  But 
don't  repel  her  to-day.  Let  her  have  all  the  liberty  she 
wants." 

"  I  will  try  to  be  polite,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  hope 
Winnie  will  sit  where  I  can  look  in  her  face  ;  and  you, 
too,  mother.  I  need  all  I  can  have  to  give  me  cour- 
age." 

"  0,  never  fear !  "  was  the  cheerful  reply ;  "  it  will 
soon  be  over.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  succeed  to 
your  heart's  content ;  but  if  you  should  not,  it  wouldn't 
alter  our  opinion.  We  know  the  talent  is  there,  and 
will  come  out  some  time." 

"  Thank  you." 

"Just  run  down  to  Mr.  M's.  Hester  will  stop  there, 
and  speak  with  Winnie  a  moment.  It  will  do  you  both 
good." 

"  Thank  you  again,  mother  mine,"  he  said,  as  he 
darted  off.  Envena  put  on  her  most  fascinating  look, 
her  most  easy,  affable  manners,  and  talked  more  softly, 
as  she  leaned  confidingly  on  Howard's  arm  to  the  church, 
and  up  the  steps.  Howard  paused  at  the  door  5  she 
seemed  in  no  haste  to  let  go. 


DECEPTION     UNVEILED.  329 

"  Howard,"  said  Mr.  Tnicman,  "  I  want  to  speak 
with  you  a  moment."  He  turned. 

"  We  won't  wait  for  them,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman  ;  "  the 
sexton  will  give  us  seats.  Howard  will  go  upon  the  plat- 
form." 

"  I  really  thank  you,  father,"  said  Howard ;  "  you 
have  relieved  me  from  a  dilemma." 

"  Winnie  is  here,"  said  Mr.   Trueman,  nervously. 

"  I  know  it,"  was  the  reply.     "  I  have  seen  her." 

"  0,  all  right !     I  di.d  not  know." 

Envena's  flattering  encomiums  pleased  Lucy  and  Susie. 
"  Elegant,"  "  Splendid,"  "  I  envy  you,"  "  How  proud  I 
should  be  !  "  &c.  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Trueman  heard 
them  with  pain.  Their  son  did  himself  credit.  His  address 
was  modest  and  sensible,  well  written,  arid  well  delivered  ; 
not  brilliant  nor  eloquent.  They  were  satisfied ;  nay, 
more  than  that,  gratified.  Winnie's  eyes  filled  with 
tears  several  times  —  honest  tears  of  gratitude.  How- 
ard saw  that  she,  too,  was  satisfied,  and  he  was  content. 
Envena  exerted  herself  to  the  utmost  to  keep  him  by  her 
side  during  the  intermission,  but  in  vain.  Ho  pleaded 
an  engagement,  and  left  her.  When  they  met  for  even- 
ing services,  Howard  came  in  with  Winnie  on  his  arm, 
looking  very,  very  happy. 

"  The  deceitful  thing  1  "  said  Envena,  thrown  off  her 
guard.  "  How  came  she  here  ?  " 

"Honestly  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Trueman.  "Winnie 
never  told  any  one  she  was  not  coming.  I  knew  she 
was  to  be  here.  I  said  she  was  not  to  ride  with  us. 
You  and  Lucy  took  it  for  granted  she  was  to  stay  at 
home.  I  chose  to  let  you  remain  in  ignorance  of  her 
coming,  for  good  reasons,  I  think.  So,  you  see,  I  have 


330  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOUK. 

cleared  Winnie  from  the  charge  of  deception,  I  hope," 
she  said,  smiling.  Envena's  vivacity  forsook  her  for  a 
time  ;  but  she  recovered  herself,  and  appeared  more 
charming  than  ever. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  aunt  Hester  for  this  treat, 
Winnie,"  said  Howard,  looking  tenderly  into  her  face. 
"  She  knows  instinctively  what  is  right  and  proper." 

"You  mean,  what  is  agreeable  —  don't  you?"  said 
Winnie.  "  I  am  sure  I  enjoy  it.  But  for  her,  Howard, 
I  shouldn't  have  been  here." 

"You  wouldn't.  Why  not?  I  should  have  been 
sadly  disappointed,  and  made  a  worse  failure  than  I  did 
now." 

"  You  didn't  fail,"  said  Winnie  ;   "  you  did  well." 

"  Then  why  do  you  look  so  sad  every  now  and  then, 
when  not  speaking,  Winnie  ?  Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  There  has  been,  Howard,"  she  said,  looking  trust- 
ingly in  Iris  face  ;  "but  I  hope  you  will  set  things  all 
right." 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  Tell  me.  Has  your  father  been 
troubling  you  again  ?  " 

"  No  ;  it  isn't  wholly  that.  But,  Howard,  something 
has  been  coming  between  me  and  your  family,  especially 
between  Lucy  and  me.  Howard,  it  has  been  dark  —  we 
loved  each  other  so  ;  and  I  don't  understand  it.  Won't 
you  find  the  rock  of  offence,  and  roll  it  away  ?  It  would 
be  a  sad  drawback  to  happiness  if  I  thought  your  family 
didn't  approve  your  choice." 

"  But  they  do,  dearest.  Don't  I  know  ?  I  learned 
to  love  you  through  them.  Why,  you  are  like  a  daugh- 
ter and  sister  to  them  now." 

"  I  hoped  I  was,"  she  said  ;  "  but  what  if  it  should  be 


DECEPTION    UNVEILED.  331 

pity  —  only  pity  —  and  not  esteem  ?  That  wouldn't  sat- 
isfy me." 

"  Who  said  that,  Winnie  ?  Tell  me.  I  must  know. 
Who  said  they  pitied  you  ?  " 

"  Envena  heard  so,  and  told  me." 

"  She  did  !  Well,  Winnie,  I  pity  ner,  poor,  foolish 
girl !  She  has  reason  to  be  mortified.  That  girl  has 
been  like  a  dark  shadow  in  your  path  this  long  time. 
She  meant  to  supplant  you  iu  my  humble  affections. 
She  couldn't.  Nothing  but  death  can  sever  my  affec- 
tions from  you.  They  have  been  maturing  all  these 
years.  If  you  bade  me  go,  I  should,  but  not  to  love 
another.  Are  you  satisfied  ?  And  father,  if  he  were  a 
young  man,  I  should  be  jealous.  Mother  is  all  right ;  she 
has  been  enlightened.  Lucy  will  see  soon,  and  then, 
darling,  the  sun  will  shine  again  ;  for  I  am  determined 
to  roll  away  the  rock  of  offence  from  the  door  of  your 
happiness.  And,  Winnie,  if  you  love  me,  you  will  treat 
her  with  politeness  — nothing  more."  He  told  her  many 
things  which  she  did  not  know,  and  said,  "  Are  you 
willing  to  have  the  rock  rolled  out  of  the  way,  Winnie  ? 
Don't  weep.  She  deserves  it.  You  and  Lucy  will  be 
friends  again." 

"  I  pity  her,"  said  Winnie.  "  So  she  thought  I  was 
at  home  ?  Well,  she  did  come  near  keeping  me  there. 
Howard,  my  heart  aches  for  her.  I  have  been  seeing 
her  duplicity  ;  but  I  loved  her,  and  could  not  bear  to 
give  her  up.  But  what  you  tell  me  convinces  me  I 
ought  to  ;  our  future  happiness  depends  upon  it.  Aunt 
Hester  told  me  many  things  I  did  not  suspect  of  her  as 
we  rode  along.  0,  Howard,  what  if  she  had  succeeded 
in  separating  us,  as  Hester  and  uncle  Horace  were  sepa- 
rated ! " 


332  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  She  couldn't  have  done  it,  dear,  especially  while  our 
good  angel  is  round  to  guard  us.  Let  us  forget  her,  and 
enjoy  this  pleasant  ride.  What  a  happiness,  Winnie,  to 
have  you  at  my  side  !  " 

Envena  was  truly  mortified  when  her  father  handed  her 
a  letter  from  Mrs.  Trueman,  stating,  in  very  concise  but 
lady-like  terms,  that  she  thought  the  happiness  and  peace 
of  her  family  required  that  their  acquaintance  with  her 
should  cease.  "  For,"  said  she,  "  I  cannot  allow  my  chil- 
dren to  be  influenced  by  one  guilty  of  such  hollow-hearted 
deception  as  I  know  you  to  have  been.  I  beg  of  you, 
as  you  value  your  own  happiness  and  reputation,  to  de- 
sist from  your  hypocrisy.  Learn  to  be  truthful  and  sin- 
cere, like  our  darling  Winnie ;  so  shall  you  make  and 
retain  valuable  friends.  Your  friend,  L.  C.  TRUEMAN." 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTO11Y    BOARDING-HOUSE.  333 


CHAPTER     XXXIV. 

SCENE   IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE.  —  THE   TEMPTER 

FOILED. 

"  BEFORE  I  would  be  tied  to  an  old  maid's  apron- 
strings,  Elida  Lentell,  I'd  run  away,  or  sell  myself 
cheap,"  cried  Regena  Steele. 

"  I  suppose  you  would,"  was  the  indignant  reply. 
"  Pray  who  among  your  numerous  acquaintances  is  oc- 
cupying that  very  unpleasant  situation  ?  " 

"  Why,  you.  You  are  tied,  hand  and  foot,  to  Hester 
Strong's  checked  apron,"  she  added,  contemptuously. 
"  Catch  me  being  led  round,  either,  as  Martha  Manlie 
leads  you  !  I  mean  to  enjoy  life."  Elida  blushed  deep- 
ly, and  was  about  to  give  a  scathing  retort ;  but  the  text 
Hester  had  taught  her  to  repeat,  when  her  quick  temper 
was  aroused,  flashed  into  her  mind.  "He  that  ruleth 
his  spirit  is  better  than  he  that  taketh  a  city."  So  she 
held  the  reins  of  her  temper  very  firmly,  and,  with  an 
effort  of  her  strong  will,  dashed  away  the  portentous 
cloud,  saying,  merrily,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet,  — 

"  Me  tied,  —  did  you  say  ?  Where,  and  how  ?  Girls, 
do  look.  Am  I  tied  ?  I  didn't  know  it."  She  looked 
this  way  and  that,  whirled  round  with  gravity,  as  if 
searching  for  some  hidden  string.  "I  declare  I  can't 
find  the  string.  Do  any  of  you  sec  it  ?  Cut  it,  do,  if 
you  see  it.  '  licigh-ho  !  '  as  my  grandpa  says,  1  don't 


334  I1ESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

believe  I  am  tied,  after  all.  I  test  the  question."  And 
the  merry  girl  commenced  dancing  and  capering  around 
the  room,  upsetting  work-baskets,  piles  of  work,  &c., 
until  the  laugh  was  turned  against  Regena  Steele,  who, 
at  length,  exclaimed, — 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  be  tied,  if  you  are  not." 

"That  may  be  true/'  said  Elida ;  "that  isn't  the 
question.  Am  I  tied,  or  am  I  not  ?  If  any  one  thinks 
I  am  not  tied,  let  them  manifest  it  by  the  usual  sign. 
It  is  a  vote  that  Elida  Lentell  is  not  tied  to  an  old  maid's 
apron-strings,  nor  the  button-hole  of  a  dandy,"  she  said, 
in  a  whisper. 

"  Do  keep  still,"  said  Regena.  "  I  never  shall  finish 
my  dress." 

"  0,  I'll  keep  as  still  as  I  can,"  was  the  meek  reply, 
"if  you  will  only  exonerate  me  from  the  awful  charge 
brought  against  me.  Come,  am  I  tied  ?  Will  you 
promise  not  to  think  I  am,  if  I  will  sit  down  and  help 
you  tuck  that  skirt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I'll  promise  anything,  if  you  will  only  help 
me  about  this  contemptible  skirt.  It  has  plagued  my 
life  out." 

"  Which  way  did  it  go  ?  I'm  good  for  catching  things," 
said  Elida,  darting  around  in  her  own  peculiar  serio- 
comical  manner.  "Here  it  is;  I  have  found  it,"  she 
said,  seizing  a  box  of  flowers  and  ribbons,  Regena's  ball- 
room treasures.  "  There  1  now  I'll  sit  down  and  help 
you.  Poor  thing !  I  do  pity  you.  You  see  I  don't 
have  my  life  worried  out  in  that  way.  My  wardrobe  is 
sensible  and  sober,  if  I  am  not.  To  be  sure,  I  do  lose 
a  good  deal,"  she  continued,  demurely.  "  I  can't  be 
out  nights,  and  come  home  early  in  the  morning.  I'm 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE.  335 

getting  along  in  years,  you  see,"  drawing  down  her 
face  —  "have  got  to  be  sixteen  and  '  up'ards,'  as  aunt 
Patty  used  to  say,  and  haven't  had  a  spark  to  my  elbow. 
That's  bad  ;  but  '  w'at  's  to  be  done  ? '  as  Ann  would 
say.  Girls,  how  do  you  go  to  work  to  catch  'em  ? 
Come,  just  enlighten  my  ignorance.  I  feel  anxious : 
time  is  passing.  Sweet  sixteen  is  the  turning  p'int  now  : 
so  I  am  just  on  the  verge  of  maidenhood.  It  is  funny  — 
isn't  it  ? — that  some  intelligent  man  don't  pick  me,  when 
I  blossomed  out  so  harndsome  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  funny  thing,"  said  Clara  Stillman.  "  I 
wish  you  would  be  serious  once  in  your  life,  and  tell  us 
why  you  won't  go  to  dancing  school.  You  don't  think 
it  is  wrong  to  dance,  for  you  learn  the  steps  of  us,  and 
dance  like  a  top.  You  are  as  graceful  as  a  kitten.  You 
would  make  a  splendid  figure  in  the  ball-room.  What 
objections  have  you  to  going  with  Mr.  Kendall  ?  He  is 
dying  to  have  you.  It  is  only  to  dancing  school,  you 
see  a  select  company,  different  from  a  ball.  It  would 
make  you  graceful  and  easy  in  company." 

"  0,  you  say  I  am  as  graceful  as  a  kitten ;  now 
nothing  can  beat  that.  I  dance  like  a  top,  &c.  If  I 
should  learn  any  more,  I  should  go  up  like  a  balloon. 
I  couldn't  stay  down  at  all.  It  would  be  awful  to 
go  capering  about  on  air,  expecting  every  moment  to 
come  down  on  somebody.  0,  I  shouldn't  dare  to  go ; 
and  if  Mr.  Kendall  is  in  a  dying  condition,  it  wouldn't 
be  pleasant,  you  know." 

"I  do  wish  you  would  stop  your  bantering  for  once, 
and  answer  me  one  question,"  said  Rcgena. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  Miss  Steele." 

"  Well,  i.s  it  wrong  to  dance  ?  " 


336  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  I  think  not.  You  sco  I  dance  beautifully.  I 
shouldn't  if  it  was  wrong." 

"  Come,  be  serious  —  do.  Why  won't  you  go  with  Mr. 
Kendall  ?  He  is  a  splendid  fellow.  Adolphus  has  always 
known  him  ;  and  he  thinks  everything  of  you." 

"  I  am  sorry  he  does.  I  don't  want  any  one  to  think 
evil  of  me.  I  don't,  truly." 

"  It  isn't  any  use  to  try  to  talk  with  you,"  said  Re- 
gena,  tossing  her  head  in  disgust. 

"Well,"  said  Elida,  apologetically,  "I  wish  I  wasn't 
so  giddy ;  but  it  was  '  born  into  me,'  as  Artemus  says, 
and  I  can't  help  it-." 

"  I  shouldn't  want  to  help  it,"  said  several  of  the 
girls.  "I  wish  I  had  your  fund  of  humor."  Elida  was 
very  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said,  in  a 
serious  manner,  — 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  tolling  you  the  reasons  why  I 
will  not  attend  dancing  school,  I  am  sure,  or  some  of 
them,  at  least.  My  mother  died,  as  you  all  know,  when 
I  was  quite  young.  She  was  a  Christian  ;  and  when 
dying,  she  solemnly  commended  us  to  God,  and  died 
charging  aunt  Hester  to  train  us  up  for  his  service. 
She  has  been  faithful,  and  as  kind  and  self-denying  as  a 
mother.  I  wish  I  had  improved  under  her  teachings  as 
Winnie  has.  She  is  a  Christian,  and  I  mean  to  be.  I 
wish  1  was  now.  Well,  you  see  sixteen  years  isn't  very 
old,  after  all.  I  am  only  a  child.  I  know  my  mother 
wouldn't  approve  of  my  going.  My  dear  aunts  wouldn't, 
and  grandfather's  folks  would  all  be  pained  if  I  went ; 
and  sister  Winnie  would  be  more  anxious  than  ever ;  so 
I  shan't  go.  Besides,  I  am  old  enough  to  know  that 
I  urn  better  off  at  home,  — just  as  happy  in  my  way  as 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE.  337 

you  are  in  yours,  and  not  in  half  so  much  danger,"  she 
added,  solemnly. 

"  Just  hear  her  !  I  should  like  to  know  what  danger 
there  is  in  going  to  dancing  school  or  a  ball  once  in  a 
while.  Come,  go  on  with  your  lecture." 

"  Danger  of  getting  cold,  for  one  thing,"  said  Elida, 
as  Clara  coughed  ominously.  "  Secondly,  danger  of 
falling  in  love,  getting  into  a  trap  or  a  snare.  0,  there 
is  ganger  enough  to  keep  me  at  home ;  so  let  us  dismiss 
the  subject.  Mr.  Kendall,  poor  fellow,  must  die  or  get 
over  it,  for  Elida  Lentell  will  never  attend  dancing 
school,  nor  a  public  ball  ;  for,  young  as  I  am,  I  can  see 
that  it  don't  improve  one  mentally  or  morally,  or  make 
one  really  any  happier.  I  wish  you  would  give  up 
going,  girls,  and  attend  Sabbath  school  —  won't  you  ? 
"We  can't  live  here  always,  and  you  yourselves  have  told 
me  of  girls  who  were  led  into  sin  in  the  ball-room*  —  of  ' 
terrible  cases  of  wounded  affection.  Falsehood  and 
deception  abound  there,  you  say.  Why  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  Do  hear  Parson  Lentell  talk  !  "  said  Regena.  "  If 
anybody  is  so  weak-minded  that  they  can't  resist  tempta- 
tion, they  had  better  not  live  in  the  city." 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  leave  the  city  to-night,"  was  the 
smiling  reply  ;  "  neither  do  I  mean  to  test  my  powers  of 
resistance  by  going  into  unnecessary  danger.  I  am  well 
an;l  happy  as  need  be.  Besides,  if  /  can  resist,  my  ex- 
ample nii^ht  lead  others  into  temptation  which  they  could 
not  or  would  not  resist,  and  I  should  cause  my  weaker 
sister  to  offend." 

"  There,  there,"  said  Clara,  with  another  of  those  deep, 
hollow  coughs,  "  I  should  think  Hester  Strong  had  come. 
'  If  meat  cause  my  brother  to  offend,  I  will  eat  no  meat 
22 


338  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

while  the  world  standeth,'  is  her  favorite  motto.  '  Do  as 
you  would  be  done  by/  is  another.  She  is  so  full  of  the 
Bible  that  she  runs  over." 

"  It  is  something  worth  being  filled  with  —isn't  it  ?  " 
said  Elida.  "It  is  the  word  of  God  —  the  way  of  life. 
How  much  better  to  be  filled  with  it  than  with  beaux  and 
balls,  laces  artd  flowers !  They  must  have  an  end  ;  but 
the  word  of  God  standeth  sure.  I  tremble  when  I  think 
that  I  must  one  day  meet  him,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  sol- 
emn voice.  "  Aunt  Hester  says  we  need  not  tremble 
nor  be  dismayed  if  Jesus  is  our  Friend,  our  Advocate. 
There,"  she  continued,  drawing  a  long  breath,  "  give  me 
credit  for  being  serious  once  —  will  you  ?  You  see  I  am 
not  so  thoughtless  as  I  seem  to  be."  Just  then  a  letter 
was  handed  to  Elida.  "  From  home  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
joyfully  ;  "  now  for  a  treat."  In  a  few  miuutcs  she  was 
*  absorbed  in  reading. 

"  Old  maids  write  interesting  letters,"  said  Regena. 
"  What  pleases  you  so  ?  lias  Hester  or  Martha  had  a 
call  to  be  married  ?  Whom  is  your  letter  from  ? " 

"  It  is  from  aunt  Hester."  She  made  no  reply  to  the 
ill-natured  remarks,  but  commenced  reading  items  of 
news.  "  Howard  has  graduated.  Aunt  Hester  and  Win- 
nie went  to  Commencement.  Envena  went  in  Mr.  True- 
man's  carriage."  Clara  and  Regena  looked  at  each 
other. 

"  Then  she  has  made  out !  I  wish  her  much  joy,  and 
hope  Winnie  will  be  consoled  by  the  idea  that  he  has  got 
terribly  taken  in.  Envena  Wiley  will  make  a  sorry  par- 
son's wife." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Elida,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other.  "  What  arc  you  talking  about  ?  " 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE.  339 

"  Why,  you  little  goose !"  exclaimed  both  girls,  in  a 
breath,  "  didn't  you  know  Envena  had  been  setting  her 
cap  for  Howard  Trueman  this  two  years  ?  Playing  pious 
or  anything  to  get  him.  Isn't  she  cute,  though  ?  "  said 
Kegeoa,  laughing. 

"  I  should  suppose  you  thought  something  very,  funny 
had  happened,"  said  Elida,  running  her  eye  along  over 
the  letter.  She  read,  "  '  Howard  and  Winnie  rodejiome 
together.  Winnie  is  spending  a  week  at  Mr.  Trueman's, 
having  a  delightful  time.  Fortunately,  this  is  her  vaca- 
tion. They  will  visit*  all  the  friends,  and  probably  ride 
over  to  see  you.  You  must  have  your  photograph  ready 
for  her.  Howard  has  given  her  a  beautiful  album.  Hat- 
tie  Gray  and  Henry  Herbert  are  to  be  married  soon. 
Winnie  and  Howard  will  stand  up  with  them.'  Things 
don't  look  very  dubious — do  they?"  said  Elida,  look- 
ing up  archly.  "  So  Enveua  hasn't  been  so  very  '  cute/ 
after  all  —  has  she  ?  "  The  two  girls  looked  at  each 
other  again. 

"It  seems  not;  but  there  is  time  enough  in  three 
years.  Now  don't  go  to  telling  Hester  and  Winnie 
what  we  have  said.  We  were  only  in  fun." 

"  Queer  kind  of  fun  —  wasn't  it  ?  "  and  Elida  looked 
into  the  girls'  faces  with  an  earnest,  puzzled  look. 
"  You  were  not  in  fun,"  she  said  at  length,  "  but  in 
earnest.  You  mean  something.  I  shall  write  to  aunt 
Hester,  and  tell  her  just  what  you  said.  She  will  un- 
riddle it  all,  and  straighten  things  out.  You  know  she 
w;ts  serve •!  in  that  way  once,'  and  is  as  sharp  as  a 
needle." 

"  Now  don't  be  such  a  tell-tale,"  said  both  girls.  "  We 
didn't  mean  anything." 


340  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"I  am  sorry  you  say  what  you  don't  mean,  and  sorry 
to  disoblige  you  ;  but  I  must.  I  had  rather  get  '  stove 
in  '  with  love,  or  '  smashed  up/  as  your  Adolphus  says 
he  has,  or  be  brought  into  a  '  dying  state/  like  poor 
Mr.  Kendall ;  for  such  folks  are  easily  brought  to,  life, 
and  get  over  it  nicely.  Their  feelings  aren't  quite  skin- 
deep.  But  Winnie  —  0,  I  couldn't  bear  it  if  anything 
should  separate  her  and  Howard  !  for  I  know  they  love 
each  other  truly,  and  not  after  the  '  dying  rate '  that 
some  of  our  city  beaux  talk  about.  But  there,  I  don't 
mean  to  worry.  Howard  and  Winnie  are  all  right.  I 
don't  like  Envena ;  but  Winnie  does.  They  shall  have 
my  picture  ;  and  besides,  I  shall  go  home  with  them,  and 
look  after  their  interests  as  a  good  sister  should  ;  for  I 
am  beginning  to  think  city  life  is  not  so  very  elevating 
and  instructive.  I  will  try  to  be  satisfied  with  the  coun- 
try in  the  future,  for  if  in  some  respects  there  are  more 
advantages  here,  there  are  also  more  temptations  for  the 
inexperienced.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  catch  the  contagion, 
and  get  perfectly  'fascinated/  or  ' bewitched/ or  some- 
thing, if  I  stay  here.  I  am  starving  for  the  truth  and 
sincerity  of  home  friends." 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  care  how  soon  you  go,  if  you  are 
going  'to  lecture  us,  and  set  yourself  up  for  a  saint." 

"  I  haven't  done  either,"  was  the  quick  retort.  "  I 
was  only  rendering  a  reason,  and  you  importuned  me  to 
do  it.  You  see  I  have  run  a  whole  tuck  while  I  have 
been  running  my  other  rig.  Good  night  —  my  aged  head 
feels  the  need  of  sleep." 

"  I  won't  let  her  off  so  easy,"  whispered  Regena. 
"  I'll  contrive  some  way  to  get  her  for  him.  Adolphus 
has  told  him  I  would,  and  I  will.  If  he  can  only  get  her 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE.  341 

to  go  with  him  once,  he  is  sure  of  her  —  the  little  witch. 
Hester  will  have  to  pray  more  than  once  to  keep  her  in 
the  narrow  way,  I'm  thinking-  —  the  old  fool!  Just  as 
if  we  young  folks  didn't  want  to  enjoy  life  a  little,  before 
settling  down  to  singing  psalms.  That  is  how  she  came 
to  be  an  old  maid,  I  expect." 

Clara  coughed,  and  turned  restlessly.  • 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  Augustus  to  get  you  something 
to  take  ?  Your  eyes  are  getting  red,  coughing  ;  and  be- 
sides, you  keep  me  awake.  I  hate  to  lie  awake,  it  makes 
me  look  so  old.'7 

"  Does  it  ?  "  said  Clara.  "  I  will  sleep  with  Elida, 
th'en  ;  I  think  she  will  be  willing.  It  would  be  a  pity  to 
injure  your  queenly  beauty.  It  might  spoil  your  market," 
she  added,  bitterly. 

"  There,  don't  act  so  foolishly,"  said  Regena.  "  You 
know  I  am  willing  you  should  cough.  But  you  ought  to 
take  something.  You  won't  be  able  to  go  to  the  dance 
Wednesday  night,  if  you  don't  —  that's  all.  Lie  down  ; 
I  want  3rou  to  help  me  trap  that  child." 

"  Well,  I  shan't,"  was  the  reply.  "  You  have  trapped 
me,  and  led  me  to  the  edge  of  irretrievable  ruin.  I 
tremble  to  think  how  near.  I  expect  my  life  will  pay  the 
forfeit  of  my  dissipation  and  folly.  I  think  there  are 
worse  evils  to  avoid  than  being  an  old  maid,  which  you 
seem  to  dread  so  much.  0,  I  wish  I  were  as  good  and 
happy  as  Hester  Strong  is.  Elida's  lecture,  as  you  called 
it,  has  opened  my  eyes.  Better  never  marry  —  a  thou- 
sand times  better  —  than  to  wed  unhappily,  or  lose  one's 
moral  integrity  by  flirting  and  evil  associates,"  she  mur- 
mured. "0,  mother,  mother,  my  poor,  tried  mother  I 
What  wouM  you  say  if  you  knew  the  danger  I  have 
in  ?  How  near  to  absolute  ruin  I  " 


342  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

* 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Regena,  hoarsely.  "  You 
don't  mean  to  say  —  "  She  had  raised  herself  on  her 
elbow,  and  was  looking  down  into  the  pale  face  fiercely  ; 
"  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are  better  than  I  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  was  the  reply,  "  if  you  can  plan  and  execute 
such  a  fiendish  deed  as  you  propose." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Clara  Stillman  ?  Isn't  Mr.  Ken- 
dall fine  looking  ?  Doesn't  he  dress  like  a  gentleman  ? 
How  do  I  know  what  his  intentions  are  ?  He  thinks  her 
extremely  pretty  —  is  delighted  with  her  brilliant,  spicy 
manner  —  says  she  is  nearly  as  fascinating  as  I  am." 

"  lie  did  !  "  said  Clara,  mockingly  ;  "  then  you  allow 
all  men  to  flatter  you  ;  and  you  think  he  might  deign  lo 
marry  her,  since  you  are  otherwise  engaged.  Regena,  I 
am  confounded.  You  promised  Hester  that  you  would 
take  care  of  Elida.  We  were  the  means  of  her  coming 
here.  I  have  felt  guilty  every  time  I  have  tried  to  induce 
her  to  attend  dancing  school,  knowing  how  her  friends 
feel  about  such  things." 

"  Well,  I  haven't.  I  think  young  folks  want  to  enjoy 
life  a  little,  before  settling  down  to  praying  and  singing 
psalms.  I  intend  to,  at  least,  and  I  mean  that  Elida  shall. 
She  will  make  a  sensation  yet ;  and  you  might  if  it  wasn't 
for  your  squeamishuess.  What  is  the  harm  of  flirting  a 
little  ?  There  is  Mr.  A.,  I  bewitched  him,  but  '  he  has  got 
over  it,'  as  Elida  says.  They  do  survive  such  terrible 
spasms,  and  get  over  them  amazingly  quick  ;  and  I  enjoy 
such  things.  Life  would  be  intolerably  dull  without  a 
little  romance.  I  pity  the  poor  fools  that  always  begin 
to  prepare  to  die  as  soon  as  they  are  old  enough  to  enjoy 
life.  I  never  was  so  happy  as  now.  To  be  sure,  I  didn't 
mean  to  carry  the  joke  quite  so  far  with  Mr.  P.,  for  I 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-UOUSE.  343 

like  his  wife,  and  ho  don't  get  over  his  infatuation.  When 
I  am  married  I  shall  look  out  for  handsome,  fascinating 
girls.  I  shan't  ask  them  to  ride  or  .walk  with  my  hus- 
band, I  assure  you.  It  is  strange  how  blind  some  folks 
are.  Just  as  if  we  can  help  such  things  !  ,  We  arc  made 
just  as  we  arc.  If  married  women  can't  —  " 

"  Stop,  Regena  Steele !  you  astonish  me  more  and 
more,"  said  Clara.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  mean  what 
you  say  ?  Is  it  possible  that  I  understand  you  ?  Dare 
you  say  that  you  are  not  a  free  moral  agent,  and  account- 
able to  God  ?  0,  I  didn't  think  it.  I  am,  indeed,  in  dan- 
ger. The  sentiments  you  have  uttered  are  blasphemous 
and  sensual.  I  know  I  have  been  vain  and  frivolous  ; 
spent  precious  time  in  childish  amusements,  and  exposed 
myself  to  evil,  pernicious  influences.  I  tremble  when  I 
look  back  upon  the  past.  0,  there  have  been  moments 
when  my  feet  have  well  nigh  slipped.  I  stood  there 
thoughtlessly,  defiantly.  What  if  I  had  fallen  !  "  She 
covered  her  face,  and  cowered  as  if  peering  over  into  the 
awful  depths  of  some  slippery  chasm.  "  What  if  I  had 
fallen  !  "  Her  voice  was  deep  and  hollow  ;  she  shud- 
dered. "  I  might ;  others  no  more  thoughtless  and  giddy 
than  I  have  fallen  to  rise  no  more." 

"  Come,  Clara,  you  are  getting  nervous,"  said  Regena. 
"  You  needn't  feel  so  ;  you  haven't  fallen,  and  there  is 
no  danger  of  it.  You  and  I  are  strong  enough  to  stand 
looking  over  the  most  stupendous  precipice  that  was  ever 
gotten  up  by  flirtation,  and  be  in  no  danger  of  falling 
into  the  yawning  abyss.  Why,  haven't  I  done  it  time 
after  time  ?  Just  keep  a  cool,  steady  head,  and  you  can 
stand  upon  the  very  edge  of  the  bottomless  pit,  and  be 
saved.  I  am  speaking  figuratively;  of  course  Ihcrc  is 


344  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

no  such  place.  God  never  made  us  to  curse  and  torment 
us  forever ;  so  let  us  go  to  sleep.  You  are  sick  ;  that 
is  all." 

"  You  may  sleep  —  I  cannot.  I  am  terribly  awake  to 
a  sense  of  my  sins.  0,  I  believe  the  Bible.  It  is  full  of 
threatenings  against  the  workers  of  iniquity  —  those  that 
forget  God.  That  I  have  done.  God  has  not  been  in  all 
my  thoughts." 

"  Do  keep  still,"  was  the  impatient  reply.  "  I  want  to 
go  to  sleep." 

"  I  can't  keep  still  until  I  warn  you  to  escape  for  your 
life.  Forsake  the  evil  companions  you  have  chosen ; 
associate  with  the  good  and  virtuous,  —  and  there  are 
many  even  in  this  boarding-house,  —  for  I  tell  you  you 
are  in  danger  of  ruin,  irretrievable  ruin.  I  see  it,  if  you 
don't.  You  are  playing  a  dangerous  game.  You  are 
sowing  the  wind,  and  will  reap  the  whirlwind,  the  storm, 
ay,  the  tempest.  I  tremble  for  you  if  you  have  cast  off 
the  fear  of  God." 

"Well,  you  needn't;  I  know  what  I  am  about.  I 
shall  come  off  with  flying  colors  yet.  Adolphus  is  as 
rich  as  a  Jew.  But  don't  quote  Scripture  to  me,  it  don't 
take  effect.  Better  quote  Shakespeare,  or  somebody  we 
know  something  about.  I  expected  you  would  make  a 
draft  on  Hester  Strong." 

"  0,  Eegena,  Regena  !  do  you  disbelieve  the  Bible  ? 
Then  I  shall  talk  in  vain.  I  was  not  aware  that  I  had 
treasured  up  so  many  passages.  All  that  I  learned  at 
Sabbath  school  come  back  to  me  to-night,  with  great  force 
and  power.  Those  were  contented,  happy  days,  com- 
pared with  my  most  successful  days  of  folly,  or  what  you 
would  call  my  most  brilliant  conquests.  I  thank  God  I 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE.  345 

cannot  boast  of  many,  and  there  are  no  married  men 
among  the  number.  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing. 
The  thought  is  extremely  revolting  to  me.  You  say  you 
enjoy  it  and  are  happy.  You  are  deceiving  yourself; 
for  certainly  you  appear  unhappy,  dissatisfied,  and  irri- 
table. You  are  growing  more  and  more  restless,  when 
not  in  hot  pursuit  of  some  phantom  you  call  pleasure. 
But  I  must  leave  you.  We  have  been  companions  in  sin, 
—  I  hope  we  may  yet  walk  together  in  the  path  of  peace. 
I  think  my  mother's  prayers  have  kept  me  from  the  com- 
mission of  any  act  of  immorality,  and  I  mean  to  pray 
that  your  eyes  may  be  opened  before  it  is  too  late." 

"  Better  pray  for  the  removal  of  that  cough.     It  is 
very  annoying  to  me,  at  least." 

Poor  Clara  lay  quite  still  for  some  time,  wondering  if 
Regena  had  changed  so  very  much,  or  whether  she  had 
been  blinded  to  her  faults.  How  unprincipled  and  un- 
feeling she  was  !  and  she  had  manifested  so  much  affec- 
tion for  her,  especially  in  company.  She  was  imperious 
and  exacting  at  times,  it  was  true,  but  she  was  beautiful 
and  brilliant  —  could  flatter,  caress,  and  cajole  in  turn. 
They  had  been  friends  from  childhood.  Regena  went  to 
the  city  several  years  previous  to  Clara's  going,  and  was 
far  advanced  in  dissipation  before  Clara  joined  her.  Thus 
far  they  had  gone  hand  in  hand  outwardly.  Regena,  like  . 
a  skilful  general,  led  her  victim  along  successfully,  until 
sickness,  caused  by  exposure,  startled  her  from  her  false, 
delusive  dream.  She  resolved  to  go  home  immediately, 
and  persuade  Elida  to  go,  if  possible.  She  became  so 
distressed  in  body  and  mind,  that  she  could  bear  it  no 
longer.  She  arose,  dressed  herself,  and  was  preparing 
to  leave  the  room,  when  Regena  said,  derisively,  — 


346  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Go  and  expose  me  if  you  dare.  I  have  an  influence 
in  this  house  —  have  been  here  longer  than  you.  I  de- 
spise the  praying  old  fool  that  keeps  it  ;  but  she  don't 
know  it.  I  looked  out  for  that." 

"  Kegena,  I  shan't  report  what  you  have  told  me  in 
conGdence.  I  am  still  your  friend,  and  would  save  you 
if  I  could,  but  feel  that  I  have  enough  to  do  to  settle 
my  own  accounts.  That  child's  words,  '  We  can't  live 
here  always/  are  ringing. like  a  death-knell  in  my  ears. 
We  must  one  day  meet  Him.  0,  Regena,  Rcgena  !  I  be- 
lieve I  am  worse  than  you  now  !  I  have  been  to  meet- 
ing and  Sabbath  school  a  great  deal  more,  and  my  mother 
has  been  a  Christian  for  years.  What  shall  I  do  ?  — 
what  shall  I  do  ? "  Regena  was  alarmed  at  her  dis- 
tress. She  saw  that  she  was  very  pale. 

"  I  will  go  call  Mrs.  D.,"  she  said  ;   "  you  lie  down." 

"I  can't  lie  down;  but  call  her  —  do:  I  am  afraid 
to  die." 

"  You  won't  die.  Here,  smell  of  my  cologne."  Mrs. 
D.  soon  comprehended  the  state  of  the  case.  She  took 
the  poor  girl  to  her  own  room,  and  did  what  she  could 
to  make  her  comfortable. 

"  What  arrested  your  attention  to  your  sins  ?  "  in- 
quired Mrs.  D. 

"  I  hardly  know.     We  were  urging  Elida  to  attend 

dancing  school,  and  some  things  which  she  said  affected 

me,  and  J  couldn't  shake  off  the  feeling.     I  sneered  at 

•  religion,  and  it  seemed  as  if  a  strong  hand  was  laid  on 

my  arm,  holding  me  just  in  sight  of  my  sins." 

"  My  dear,  I  am  glad  you  are  standing  there.  Don't 
turn  away  your  face,  but  look 'at  them,  search  for  them, 
till  you  hate  them,  and  feel  that  they  are  such  a  terrible 


SCENE    IX    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE.  347 

burden  that  you  are  glad  to  lay  them  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross.  I  am  glad  that  your  false  security  is  dis- 
turbed. Don't  think  me  unfeeling.  I  want  you  to  be- 
come thoroughly  sick  of  sin  ;  for  I  know  of  a  Physician 
that  will  heal  you  when  you  feel  your  need  of  him. 
'  Ask,  and  you  shall  receive ; '  knock,  and  the  door  of 
mercy  shall  fly  open.  Shall  I  pray  with  you,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  do  ;  for  I  dare  not.  0,  I  dare  not  pray  !  " 
Thus  the  hours  wore  away.  Neither  Clara  nor  Mrs.  D. 
slept  much  that  night.  Regena  also  was  disturbed  and 
sleepless.  She  regretted  having  revealed  her  scepticism 
and  other  secrets  to  Clara,  especially  now  she  was  so 
unwell.  Far  down  in  her  soul  she  feared  the  Bible 
might  be  true.  What  if  it  was  ?  She  tried  to  silence 
the  still  small  voice  —  bade  the  Spirit  depart  for  this 
time,  thinking,  — 

"  When  I  have  been  married  a  while,  and  am  tired  of 
this  life  and  its  pleasures,  I  will  consider  these  things  ; 
but  not  now.  I  am  getting  tired  of  this  folly,  and  espe- 
cially of  flirting.  I  think  I  shall  hold  on  to  Adolphus. 
lie  is  handsome,  and  there  is  a  golden  charm  about  him. 
I  led  him  captive,  and  now  he  is  at  my  will  and  pleasure. 
I'll  keep  him  there.  I  don't  care  what  comes,  I'll  marry 
him,  just  as  soon  as  his  fortune  is  secure.  He  says  he 
must  move  cautiously,  or  his  aristocratic  father  will  put 
him  on  short  rations."  And  so  the  deluded  girl  went 
on,  weaving  web  after  web  of  bright,  beautiful  tissues, 
which  were  to  prove  as  vain  as  vanity  itself,  and  as  false 
as  the  life  she  was  now  leading. 

"  Clara  is  very  sick,  liY^vna,"  said  Mrs.  D.  in  the 
ing.  "  You  will  have  to  come  out  and  take  care 
of  her,  1  think." 


348  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Me  ?  Why  me  ?  I  can't.  I  am  making  excellent 
wages."  Mrs.  D.  was  puzzled. 

"  I  thought  you  were  such  good  friends,"  she  said, 
"that  you  would  wish  to  take  care  of  her.  Of  course 
she  must  have  some  one.  My  duties  are  such  that  I 
cannot  take  care  of  her.  Poor  child !  I  wish  she  was 
at  home  with  her  mother." 

"  I  wish  so,  too,"  was  the  impatient  reply.  "  Get 
Elida  to  stay  with  her,  or  send  for  her  mother."  She 
saw  that  she  was  falling  in  the  estimation  of  the  board- 
ing mistress,  losing  all  she  had  gained  by  flattery  and 
deception  for  her  own  selfish  purposes.  She  must  make 
a  bold  attempt  to  maintain  her  standing.  "  Mrs.  D.," 
she  said,  "  I  have  good  reasons  for  being  disgusted  with 
that  girl.  If  you  knew  the  cause  of  her  sickness,  as  I 
do,  you  would  send  her  off." 

"  Not  while  she  is  suffering  so  severely,  both  physi- 
cally and  mentally,  I  assure  you.  But  what  has  hap- 
pened ?  You  recommended  her  highly." 

"  I  know  it ;  I  am  sorry  I  did.  But  really,  Mrs.  D., 
I  didn't  know  her.  I  have  been  here  a  long  time,  and 
she  was  a  good,  virtuous  girl  when  I  left  home.  Don't 
blame  me  —  will  you?  Get  Elida  to  stay  with  her,  and 
write  to  her  mother.  Stay ;  I  will  write  to  her.  She 
will  be  here  in  a  day  or  two.  But  don't  lisp  a  word  of 
what  I  intimated.  She  hasn't  done  anything  that  will 
come  out  and  injure  you.  I  am  sorry  I  brought  her 
here."  Mrs.  D.  was  sorely  perplexed.  Eegena  had 
succeeded  in  ingratiating  herself  into  her  favor.  She 
admired  her  self-reliant  disposition,  and  thought  her  a 
girl  of  good  moral  principle.  She  regretted  that  she-  was 
BO  taken  up  with  the  world,  hoped  she  would  become  a 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE  349 

Christian,  and  Clara,  as  her  friend,  had  been  favored. 
Her  confidence  in  Clara  was  shaken,  and  it  was  hard  for 
her  to  speak  kindly  to  the  suffering  girl.  "  She  must 
have  done  something  terribly  amiss,"  she  thought,  "to 
estrange  Regena  so  much.  No  wonder  she  is  concerned 
for  her  sins."  And  so  there  was  a  coldness  in  her  man- 
ner which  the  sick  girl  felt  keenly.  But  Elida  was  a 
gentle,  tender  nurse. 

"I  must  stay  out,"  she  said  to  her  overseer's  objec- 
tions; "  I  must,  even  if  I  lose  my  place.  She  has  no 
friends  here."  She  was  thinking  of  the  meanness  of 
Regena's  conduct. 

"  Well,  if  you  must,  you  must,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but 
come  back  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"There,"  she  said,  coming  into  the  sick  room,  "I 
have  weathered  the  cape,  and  am  here  safe  and  sound. 
And  now  I  shall  devote  my  splendid  abilities  to  this 
homesick  patient.  You  see,  I  sprang  from  a  long  line 
of  successful  doctors,  and  nurses,  and  invalids,  too  ;  so 
cheer  up,  Clara  ;  for  I,  the  renowned  Miss  Lentell,  am 
at  your  service  just  as  long  as  it  is  necessary."  Clara 
smiled  so  sadly,  that  Elida  ceased  her  bantering  tone, 
and  inquired,  — 

"What  is  it,  Clara?  You  are  heartsick,  too  —  aren't 
you  ?  Don't  be  discouraged  ;  you  will  be  better  soon. 
I  will  put  some  mustard  on  your  side,  or  hot  water ; 
which  shall  I?" 

"Mustard,  I  guess;  the  pain  is  severe.  But,  Elida, 
what  you  said  last  night  is  sounding  like  a  death-knell 
in  my  cars.  '  AVe  can't  stay  here  always.'  I  feel  that. 
I  cannot  stay  here  long,  arid  I  fear  to  die.  0,  my  siiis  I 
my  sins !  " 


350  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"Forsake  them,"  said  Mrs.  D.,  coming  into  the  room 
—  "  forsake  them,  or  they  will  destroy  you.  If  you  are 
truly  sorry  for  them,  and  not  suffering  from  fear  of  ex- 
posure, why,  God  can  and  will  forgive  them,  though  they 
are  many  and  heinous.  I  don't  know  what  your  peculiar 
guilt  is  ;  but  you  do,  and  God  knows." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  sick  one,  much  agitated, 
"that  I  have  any  peculiar  sins.  I  have  transgressed 
the  holy  and  righteous  law  of  God  all  my  life.  1  have 
been  vain  and  thoughtless." 

"  Is  that  all?"  said  Mrs.  D.,  looking  her  steadily  in 
the  face.  She  was  painfully  embarrassed,  and  did  not 
reply.  Mrs.  D.  left  her  with  the  impression  that  she 
was  a  deceiver  —  that  her  sins  had  found  her  out.  Elida 
and  Clara  saw  the  change  in  Mrs.  D.'s  appearance,  but 
could  not  account  for  it. 

"  I  thought  she  was  a  Christian,"  mused  Elida.  "  I 
wish  —  0,  how  I  wish  —  aunt  Hester  or  Winnie  was 
here  !  But  I  know  you  are  not  a  very  great  sinner, 
Clara ;  and,  if  you  were,  it  would  be  all  the  same. 
Why,  if  God  can  forgive  one  sin,  he  can  a  million  — 
of  course  he  can.  If  Jesus  could  forgive  that  vile  thief 
on  the  cross,  he  can  forgive  you  ;  and  he  will,  now  that 
you  feel  so  sorry.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  were  for- 
given. I  wish  I  could  repent,  as  you  do  ;  I  should  cer- 
tainly expect  forgiveness.  I  long  to  be  a  Christian,  like 
Winnie  ;  and  aunt  Hester  always  rejoices  when  any  one 
is  under  conviction,  almost  as  much  as  she  docs  when 
they  are  converted.  '  It  is  the  Lord's  doings/  she  says  ; 
'  it  is  marvellous  in  our  eyes.'  She  says  we  must  al- 
ways walk  softly  at  such  times,  and  we  will.  I  will  stay 
with  you  day  and  night  ;  no  one  else  need  come  in  :  I 


SCENE    IN    A    FACTORY    BOARDING-HOUSE.  351 

won't  let  them.  I  will  ask  the  doctor  to  tell  them  not 
to.  I  will  read  the  words' of  Jesus  to  you;  and  who 
knows  but  he  will  say,  '  Peace/  to  you,  as  he  did  to 
his  disciples  that  stormy  night  ?  " 

"  I  can't  think  what  has  come  over  Mrs.  D.,"  said 
Clara.  "  She  seemed  so  kind  and  motherly  last  night ! 
She  talked  beautifully  and  prayed  with  me.  It  pains 
me." 

"  Well,"  said  Elida,  "  you  turn  over  so  that  I  can 
apply  this  poultice.  I  never  made  one  before ;  but  I 
have  seen  scores  of  them  made.  There,  now,  don't 
think  of  Mrs.  D.  again  to-day.  Perhaps  something  in 
the  house  troubles  her.  Aunt  Ilester  says  Satan  is  al- 
ways getting  up  a  fuss  about  something  when  folks  are 
serious."  Clara  grew  calm  under  Elida's  affectionate 
treatment,  and  finally  fell  asleep,  saying,  — 

"  I  thank  you,  Elida.  I  shall  always  remember  this 
hour." 


352  HESTEK    STROXG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER     XXXV. 

HESTER'S  FAITH  REWARDED.  —  A   LEAP  IN  THE  DARK.  — 
DECEIVED  AND  DESERTED. 

"  ELIDA,  what  is  it  that  weighs  so  heavily  on  Miss 
Stillman's  mind,"  said  Mrs.  D.,  with  a  searching  look, 
which  called  a  blush  to  her  face. 

"Why,"  said  Elida,  "  she  is  under  conviction,  they 
call  it.  I  thought  Christians  knew  about  those  things. 
I  have  heard  aunt  Hester  say  that  the  most  innocent  are 
very  guilty  in  God's  sight.  She  says  when  the  Spirit 
searches  out  our  sins,  and  sets  them  in  order  before  the 
very  best  of  us,  the  sight  is  overwhelming  ;  because 
enmity  against  God  and  the  rejection  of  Christ  are  the 
most  heinous  of  sins,  and  the  only  sins  that  will  close 
the  door  of  heaven  against  us  at  last." 

Elida  blushed  again  beneath  the  earnest,  inquiring  gaze 
of  the  boarding  mistress. 

"  I  don't  know  these  things  by  experience,"  she  said  : 
"  I  wish  I  did.  I  have  heard  so  much  about  repentance 
and  faith,  regeneration,  and  all  those  things  at  home,  that 
I  ought  to  be  belter  than  I  am.  But  my  heart  is  hard. 
I  wish  I  was  awakened  as  Clan  is  ;  I  would  arise  and 
go  to  rny  Father's  house  at  once." 

"  Elkla,"  said  Mrs.  D.,  "  I  didn't  know  you  could  stop 
to  think  a  serious  thought.  1  am  glad  you  can.  Much 
good  seed  has  fallen  into  good  ground,  as  I  perceive.  1 
hope  it  may  yet  bear  fruit  to  the  glory  of  God." 


HESTER'S    FAITH    REWARDED.  353 

"  I  hope  so,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  have  had  line  upon 
line,  precept  upon  precept." 

"  Did  you  use  to  see  Clara  often  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  were  near  neighbors." 

"  What  was  her  reputation  in  the  village  ?  " 

"  Good  —  very.  She  always  went  to  meeting  and 
Sabbath  school  there.  Her  mother  belongs  to  the  church. 
Aunt  Hester  said  she  should  not  be  willing  for  me  to 
come  if  she  were  not  here." 

"  Did  she  ?  I  fear  she  did  not  know  her,"  was  the 
mysterious  reply. 

"  You  surprise  me,"  said  Elida.  "  Aunt  Hester  knows 
everybody  in  the  village.  Folks  come  to  her  with  their 
troubles  and  trials,  their  joys  and  sorrows,  and  their  sins, 
too,  often." 

"  Well,  what  is  the  cause  of  her  sickness  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
D.,  with  an  incredulous  look. 

"  A  bad  cold,  or  rather  several  bad  colds,  taken  fool- 
ishly, of  course.  But  is  it  more  sinful  to  be  out  late,  if 
you  happen  to  get  cold,  and  make  a  little  trouble  ?  Is 
it  ?  "  she  said,  with  some  warmth.  "  If  I  were  a  Chris- 
tian, I  wouldn't  allow  my  boarders  to  have  night  keys, 
and  be  out  late.  Perhaps  it  is  all  right,  but  my  aunt 
Hester  wouldn't  think  it  was." 

She  retreated  hastily,  leaving  Mrs.  D.,  in  her  turn,  some- 
what confounded. 

"  There,"  thought  Elida,  "  I  didn't  rule  my  spirit  that 
time.  I  have  made  a  bad  matter  worse.  But  it  is  pro- 
voking. 1  thought  Christians  were  all  living  for  Christ, 
and  not  for  self.  0,  yes,  they  can  be  out  ever  so  late, 
in  all  kinds  of  company,  at  all  times,  provided  they  don't 
take  cold  and  get  sick.  That  is  decidedly  immoral  ;  it 
23 


354  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

mustn't  bo  allowed.  Poor  Clara  !  She  migiit  have  kept 
you  in.  It  is  against  the  rules  of  the  corporation  for  the 
girls  to  be  out  after  ten.  But  that  Rcgena  will  wheedle 
anybody  into  anything,  almost.  I  wish  Mrs.  Stillman 
would  come.  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,  why  I  have  not 
fallen  in  with  some  of  her  numerous  plans  for  my  advance- 
ment in  life.  I  have  felt  amazingly  inclined  to.  Mrs. 
D.  needn't  be  alarmed.  I  shall  take  care  of  Clara  till  her 
mother  comes  :  and  I  shall  ask  the  doctor  if  she  can't  be 
moved  into  my  bedroom.  She  shan't  trouble  any  of 
them.  There  !  now  I  feel  better,"  she  said,  as  she  arose 
from  the  top  stair  where  she  had  been  sitting,  to  "  smooth 
her  ruffled  feathers,"  as  she  would  have  said  if  there  had 
been  any  one  to  speak  to. 

"  Elida,"  said  Regena,  who  had  put  her  head  in  at  the 
door  to  inquire  after  the  sufferer,  "  Elida,  I  want  to  speak 
with  you." 

"  At  your  service  for  three  minutes  ;  my  cares  are 
numerous,  you  see." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  she  said,  when  the  door  was  closed. 
"  It  is  too  bad.  She  ought  to  have  been  more  careful." 

"  It  will  be  your  turn  next,"  said  Elida  ;  "  sickness  is 
no  respecter  of  persons.  I,  even  I,  venerable  and  staid 
us  I  am,  have  taken  several  very  successful  colds  in  my 
day." 

"  Well,  never,  mind,  you  little  hector,  I  want  you  to 
attend  a  select  party  to-morrow  evening,  at  the  agent's 
t-plendid  new  house.  Adolphus  got  the  invitation  for 
you,  and  you  will  ride  with  us.  He  says  you  will  grace 
any  society,  and  I  think  so.  I  want  to  have  the  honor 
of  introducing  you." 

Elida  was  considering.      She  would  like  to   attend  a 


HESTER'S    FAITH    REWARDED.  355 

select  party,  and  see  the  inside  of  the  beautiful  new  house 
and  the  imported  furniture.  Eegena  saw  it,  and  took 
courage. 

"  You  could  wear  your  blue  cashmere,  and  I  will  lend 
you  my  white  sash,  gloves,  &c.  It  needn't  cost  you  a 
cent.  Hester  wouldn't  object.  Why,  it  is  no  worse  than 
a  donation  party.  You  will  go  —  won't  you  ?  " 

Elida  hesitated. 

"  Wliat  will  they  do  for  entertainment  ?  " 

"  0,  there  will  be  music,  and  pictures,  &c.,  &c." 

"  What  kind  of  a  thing  may  the  '  &c.'s  '  be  ?  Dancing, 
and  whist  ?  or  euchre,  or  what  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  Mr. attends  church  constant- 
ly ;  of  course  there  will  be  nothing  improper.  Come, 
say  you  will  go,  that  is  a  dear  good  girl." 

Elida  bowed  her  head  on  her  hand  for  a  moment,  but 
raised  it  suddenly. 

"  No,  I  can't  go  ;  I  am  '  out  a  nussin','  "  she  said,  in 
her  peculiar,  droll  way. 

"  0,  nonsense  !  some  of  the  girls  will  watch  with 
Clara.  She  can  think  you  are  sleeping,  and  you  need 
to  be." 

"  Yes,"  said  Elida,  "  and  that  is  reason  number  two 
why  I  shan't  go.  I  do  need  all  the  sleep  I  can  get ;  but 
I  shall  not  leave  Clara  for  an  hour  till  her  mother  comes. 
I  thank  you  all  the  same,  but  I  can't  go." 

"  You  are  a  perfect  little  gosling,"  was  the  impatient 
reply.  "  I  shan't  try  to  bring  you  out." 

"  Goslings  always  come  out  themselves,"  was  the 
laughing  r-^ponse,  "  when  they  have  staid  in  long  enough. 
Perhaps  I  shall,  for  you  say  I  am  perfect.  Better  be  a 
perfect  gosling  than  an  imperfect  goose  —  hadn't  I  ? 
There's  hope  of  me." 


356  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Nonsense  !  it  isn't  any  use  to  try  to  reason  with  you. 
You  were  born  and  brought  up  an  old  maid." 

"  Pity  me,  then  !  "  was  the  doleful  reply.  "  0,  pity 
me,  and  don't  tempt  me  out  of  my  safe  retreat,  for  I 
might  get  terribly  '  smashed  up  '  by  that  wicked,  mis- 
chievous fellow,  whom  lovers  and  poets  call  Cupid.  And 
there  would  be  nary  a  beau  to  pick  up  the  pieces,  or  a 
tinker  to  repair  the  awful  damages.  0,  I'm  better  off  at 
home  ;  "  and  she  darted  out  of  sight. 

Dr.  W.  was  very  inquisitive  that  day,  the  girls  thought. 
His  examination  was  thorough,  and  rather  embarrassing. 
He  decided  that  the  case  was  lung  fever,  attended  with 
unfavorable  symptoms  ;  so  he  told  the  boarding  mistress. 

"  Nothing  worse  than  that  ?  "  was  the  reply. 

"  No,  but  that  is  bad  enough.  I  don't  like  the  sound 
of  her  cough.  She  will  get  up,  I  think,  but  not  well. 
She  has  been  neglected." 

"  I  fear  she  has,"  was  the  sad  reply.  "  She  has 
coughed  terribly  for  some  time,  but  she  would  go  out 
evenings.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  let  her  mother  know 
it,  or  insisted  upon  her  doing  something.  I  have  too 
many  cares." 

"  Yes,  you  have,"  said  the  doctor,  musingly.  "  You 
say  you  have  had  dark  insinuations.  Well,  I  see  nothing 
wrong.  Who  insinuated  ?  " 

"  A  friend  of  hers  —  Regena  Steele." 

"  Why,"  said  the  doctor,  starting  back,  "  does  she 
board  here  ?  I  have  seen  her,"  —  he  looked  at  Mrs.  D. 
significantly,  —  "  and  heard  of  her  too.  A  friend  of  mine, 
a  pure-minded,  lovely,  unsuspecting  woman  is  suffering 
severely  through  her  means." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean,   doctor  ?  "  said  Mrs  D., 


HESTER'S    FAITH    REWARDED.  35T 

sinking  into  a  seat.  "  What  can  you  mean  ?  She  has 
boarded  here  four  years.  It  must  be  another  person." 

"  I  gues's  not."     He  described  her. 

"  Yes,  that  was  she.  Well,  what  of  her  ?  What  has 
she  done  ?  " 

.  "  0,  nothing  new,  that  I  know  of.  She  is  an  unprinci- 
pled flirt  —  perhaps  nothing  more  ;  but  my  faith  in  her  is 
small.  You  had  better  look  after  her." 

"  I  will,  but  I  can't  believe  it  is  she.     I  am  astounded." 

"  Do  you  remember  Mr.  P.,  that  used  to  visit  her  two 
years  ago  ?  "  inquired  the  doctor.  "  At  least,  I  suppose 
he  must  have  come  here.  He  escorted  her  to  concerts,  —  I 
have  seen  them  there,  —  and  to  balls  I  am  told.  I  know 
they  rode  together  all  day  one  Fourth  of  July." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  him  ;  he  is  overseer  in  one  of  the 
rooms.  He  calls  now,  once  in  a  while.  What  is  the 
matter  with  him  ?  " 

"  0,  nothing,  perhaps.  He  is  the  husband  of  one  of 
the  best  women  I  ever  knew,  and  Regena  Steele  knows 
it.  His  wife  was  an  old  friend  of  hers.  She  betrayed 
her  confidence,  and  stole  her  foolish  husband's  affections, 
such  as  they  were,  and  left  her  sad  and  broken-hearted. 
And  now  Regena  is  keeping  company  with  a  real  black- 
leg, an  imp  of  Satan.  I  have  it  from  pretty  good  author- 
ity that  his  business  in  this  city  of  spindles  is  —  what  do 
you  think  ?  I  blush  to  speak  it ;  and  I  blush,  too,  that 
when  appearances  are  so  much  against  him,  still  he  is 
received  into  what  is  called  good  society." 

"  Well,  what  is  his  business  ?     You  haven't  told." 

"  It  is  —  to  decoy  young  men  and  maidens  to  destruc- 
tion. I  may  as  well  speak  plainly.  I  cannot  say  that  Miss 
Regena  is  his  accomplice ;  but  she  will  be,  or  fall  a  victim  in 


358  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

her  unscrupulous  race  for  conquest.  He  passes  for  a 
Southern  planter's  son,  but  his  movements  are  singular, 
and  the  city  officers  are  watching  him  closely." 

"  I  am  utterly  confounded,"  said  Mrs.  D.  "  What  can 
we  put  confidence  in,  since  we  cannot  trust  our  own 
observation  ?  I  can't,  I  can't  believe  I  am  so  deceived. 
I  must  have  proof,  positive  proof,  that  we  are  both  think- 
ing of  the  same  persons.  What  is  the  name  of  that  man 
you  spoke  of  ?  " 

"  Adolphus  De  Wert." 

"  Then  I  must  give  up  the  contest ;  he  comes  here. 
He  is  a  fine-looking  fellow.  Is  it  possible  !  is  it  possible  ! 
What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Keep  a  good  lookout  that  no  one  in  your  house  is 
led  out  of  it  by  her.  A  trap  is  set  which  will  be  sprung 
soon.  It  is  my  opinion  the  sick  girl  is  more  sinned 
against  than  sinning.  So  take  good  care  of  her." 

"  I  will,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  cannot  be  thankful 
enough  that  the  veil  has  been  raised." 

Elida  and  Clai'a  were  surprised  again  by  her  frequent 
calls,  and  the  kindly  interest  manifested. 

"  She  may  be  innocent,"  thought  Mrs.  D.  ;  "  but  what 
firm  friends  they  have  been  !  Perhaps  —  well,  I  don't 
know,  I  can't  know  ;  only  Elida  says  her  reputation  lias 
been  good  at  home.  And  besides,  whatever  her  charac- 
ter has  been,  she  is  suffering  and  penitent  now.  I  will 
do  all  I  can  for  her." 

"  Well,"  said  Elida,  "  she  has  come  to  her  senses  at 
last ;  I  am  glad  of  it.  These  boarding-houses,  with  thirty 
or  forty  inmates,  must  cause  a  vast  amount  of  perplexing 
care.  That  accounts  for  her  treatment  of  you  —  so  don't 
worry.  I  am  going  to  get  you  well  enough  to  go  home 


HESTER'S    FAITH    REWARDED.  359 

when  I  go.  Won't  it  bo  pleasant  to  feel  safe  once  more  ? 
to  know  who  is  who,  and  what  is  what  ?  " 

"  0,  I  do  hope  you  will  go  with  me  !  "  said  Clara,  with 
unusual  emotion.  "  I  feel  easier  now."  Elida  looked 
at  her  thoughtfully,  but  made  no  inquiries. 

"  I  want  to  put  an  onion  poultice  over  your  lungs, 
my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  D.  "  It  is  one  of  the  best  reme- 
dies I  know  of.  I  ought  to  have  done  it  before.  But 
you  girls  can  have  no  idea  of  the  care  and  perplexity 
I  meet  in  one  way  and  another.  There,  I  am  pretty 
sure  that  will  relieve  you.  How  are  you  feeling  in  your 
mind  ?  " 

"  More  calm,"  was  the  reply.  "Elida  has  read  many 
precious  passages  which  I  am  sure  were  penned  for  me. 
They  have  comforted  me,  and  yet  I  cannot  think  I  am  a 
Christian.  I  mean  to  seek  until  I  am."- 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  You  will  not  wish  to  attend 
balls  and  assemblies  when  you  get  better." 

"  0,  no,  indeed !  I  have  never  enjoyed  them  as  Re- 
gena  does.  I  went,  in  the  first  place,  to  please  her. 
But,"  she  added,  sadly,  "henceforth  our  paths  diverge, 
unless  she  will  go  with  me.  I  went  with  her  until  I 
could  go  no  farther.  0  that  I  could  make  her  sec;  tho 
danger,  and  turn  back  !  but  I  can't.  0,  Mrs.  D.,  couldn't 
you  save  her  ?  "  she  said,  imploringly.  "  I  warned  her  ; 
but  she  laughed  at  my  fears,  arid  despised  me  for  my 
weakness." 

"  You  had  better  not  distress  yourself,  dear,"  said  tho 
kind  hearted  woman,  as  she  began  to  comprehend  the 
reason  of  Regena's  alienation.  "  You  have  dono  your 
duty,  and  now  you  must  try  to  get  well.  A  life  conse- 
crated to  God  is  worth  preserving.  Can't  you  breathe 
a  lilllc  easier  ?  " 


360  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE     WORK. 

"  I  believe  I  can.     I  thank  you  for  thinking  of  me." 
"  0,  you  are  welcome  !     I  will  stay  with   you  a  part 

of  the  night,  and  let  Elida  sleep." 

"  I   get  considerable   sleep,"  said  JSlida.     "  I  would 

rather  take  care  of  her  than  not,  till  her  mother  comes. 

I  thank  you  just  the  same ;  but  you  need  your  rest,  I 

am  sure." 

"  Where  are  you  going  to-night  ?  "  said  Mrs.  D.  to 
Regena. 

"  0,  to  a  very  select  party  at  Mr. 's.  Don't  speak 

of  it  to  the  boarders  ;  they  are  envious.  Very  few  of 
the  mill  girls  are  to  be  present,  Adolphus  says.  How 
do  I  look  ?  I  miss  Clara  about  dressing.  Her  taste  is 
perfect.  She  ought  to  have  been  more  careful.  Adol- 
phus always  sees  to  wrapping  me  up." 

"  Eegena,  what  if  Adolphus  should  be  an  impostor, 
after  all  —  a  deceiver,  and  not  a  planter's  sou  ?  which 
isn't  much  better,  in  most  cases." 

Kegena  turned  pale  for  a  moment ;  and  then  the  color 
came,  and  the  dark  eye  flashed,  as  she  said,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  — 

"  I  would  kill  him  ;  that  is  all.  Why  do  you  suppose 
such  an  impossibility  ?  "  she  said,  fiercely. 

"  0,  I  have  good  reasons.  I  warn  you  to  beware 
what  you  do.  I  have  done  wrong  in  allowing  you  so 
much  liberty.  After  to-night,  there  will  be  no  night-key. 
Those  who  are  out  when  the  house  is  closed  must  stay 
out." 

"  Very  well,"  was  the  reply ;  "  I  can  find  a  home 
where  I  can  keep  the  keys  in  my  own  possession.  You 
can  believe  all  that  Judas  Stilluian  tells  you,  and  wel- 
come. I  am  provided  for." 


A    LEAP    IN    TUE    DARK.  361 

"  Clara  Stillmau,  I  suppose  you  mean,  has  not  spoken 
a  word  against  you ;  but  you  did  mislead  me,  and  she 
has  suffered  for  it.  I  have  neglected  her.  We  fear 
she  will  die.  Have  you  nothing  to  reflect  upon  ?  I 
have." 

"  No,  I  have  not.  She  is  a  free  moral  agent,  she  says  ; 
of  course  she  did  as  she  pleased.  But  I  wish  people 
would  look  after  their  own  affairs,  and  not  meddle  with 
mine.  There  is  the  carriage  now.  I  am  in  a  pretty 
plight." 

"  I  couldn't  prevail  on  her  to  go,  Adolphus,"  she 
whispered  ;  "  really  I  couldn't.  Is  Mr.  Kendall  in  the 
carriage  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  he  will  be  greatly  disappointed." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Regena  ;  "  but  I  will  prevail  yet." 

Adolphus  handed  her  into  the  carriage,  said  a  few  low, 
indistinct  words  to  the  driver,  and,  springing  in  after  her, 
closed  the  door. 

"  Why,  we  are  alone,"  she  said. 

"  Mr.  Kendall  has  turned  driver  for  the  fun  of  the 
thing,"  was  the  reply,  "and  we  thought  Elida  could  bo 
managed  better  in  that  way." 

"Aren't  we  almost  there  ?  "  said  Regena,  faintly,  as 
they  rode  rapidly  on,  leaving  the  city  behind  them.  She 
thought  of  Mrs.  D.'s  warning.  "  Could  it  be  possible  ? 
No,  no,  it  couldn't  be." 

"Dearest,"  he  said,  putting  his  arm  about  her  ten- 
derly, "I  am  taking  you  away  from  that  miserable  board- 
ing-house. My  father's  agent  has  come  on.  I  wouldn't 
have  him  know  where  1  found  you  for  the  world." 

"  Where  arc  you  taking  me  to,  Adolphus  ?  "  she  said, 
hoarsely,  "and  without  my  consent?  I  think  at  least 


362  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

you  should  have  told  me.     I  could  have  gone  prepared. 
How  shall  I  get  my  trunks  ?  " 

"  0,  I  will  manage  that.  My  love,  I  am  taking  you 
to  a  beautiful  city  home,  about  thirty  miles  from  here, 
where  3Tou  can  have  everything.  I  meant  to  have  taken 
Eli  la.  The  giddy  little  thing  could  have  been  easily 
pacified,  you  know.  She  would  have  been  company  for 
you  in  my  absence,  until  I  can  take  you  to  your  own 
homo  in  the  sunny  South.  Kendall  is  so  terribly  in  love 
with  her,  that  I  thought  I'd  put  her  where  she'd  be" 
obliged  to  listen  to  him." 

Time  will  not  permit  us  to  follow  the  travellers. 
Enough  to  say,  that,  before  they  reached  their  destina- 
tion, Regena  was  reassured,  and  her  confidence  in  Adol- 
phus  restored.  At  length,  she  found  herself  on  the 
steps  of  an  elegant  tenement,  on  a  fashionable  street  in 
the  city.  Servants  were  in  waiting.  It  was  just  as  he 
hud  said  ;  they  were  looking  for  her.  How  stylish  the 
hall  wras  !  It  would  be  better  than  working  in  the  noisy, 
dirty  mill. 

"  I  shan't  have  to  start  up  at  the  sound  of  the  bell, 
half  refreshed  after  being  out  late.  They  are  never  to 
know  I  worked  there.  I  must  be  guarded.  I  am  glad 
I  am  here  ;  but,  after  all,  I  should  not  have  consented 
to  come,  if  he  had  consulted  me  about  it,  especially 
after  what  Mrs.  D.  said.  What  could  have  possessed 
her  ?  Clara  must  have  been  tattling.  How  envious  they 
will  all  feel  when  my  marriage  is  published  in  the  North- 
ern papers  !  De  Wert  is  a  lovely  name,  and  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  is  to  be  imposing  and  grand.  I  shall 
feel  better  to  have  them  think  I  was  born  and  brought  up 
a  lady  ;  of  course  I  shall.  Adolphus  is  right  there ; 


DECEIVED  AND  DESERTED.  363 

they  do  look  down  upon  labor  with  so  much  contempt, 
negroes  and  all.  Mr.  Kendall  admires  me  so  much,  I 
wonder  Adolphus  don't  get  jealous.  He  appears  to  like 
to  have  him  attentive  to  me.  I  wouldn't  allow  him  the 
game  privilege.  I  told  him  so.  I  will  write  mother  in  a 
few  weeks,  telling  her  I  am  well  arid  happy,  but  not 
where  I  am.  I'm  glad  Adolphus  don't  know  our  real 
poverty.  He  knows  girls  of  some  wealth  and  standing, 
in  our  New  England,  do  work  in  the  mill.  He  thinks  I 
am  such.  Curse  that  liquor  law  !  It  destroyed  father's 
trade." 

Language  would  fail  me  to  portray  the  anger  and 
mortification  of  the  deceived,  disappointed  girl,  when 
she  found  herself  in  an  elegant  house,  but  she  not  its 
mistress.  Her  door  was  locked,  but  another  kept  the 
key.  She  was  a  prisoner  without  hope,  filled  with  rage 
and  chagrin.  She  remembered  the  words  of  Clara,  "  You 
are  sowing  the  wind ;  you  will  reap  the  whirlwind,  the 
storm,  ay,  the  tempest." 

"  I  am  caught  in  my  own  trap,"  she  thought,  bitterly. 
"I  have  taken  a  leap  in  the  dark,  and  fallen — ;  fallen. 
I  am  not  the  mistress  of  a  Southern  plantation,  but  a 
slave.  If  I  could  reach  the  wretch  who  deceived  me,  he 
should  bite  the  dust.  Well,  I  am  in  the  pit  at  last ;  but 
it  isn't  bottomless.  0  God,  I  wish  it  was.  But  I  will 
reign  a  queen  even  here.  I  have  been  bitten.  I  will 
bite  back.  I  can  yet  make  conquests."  Thus  the  mis- 
guided girl  consoled  herself.  She  found  her  trunks, 
nicely  packed,  in  her  room  one  morning.  How  they 
came  there  she  knew  not.  "  I  will  let  them  think  1  am 
at  the  South,"  she  mused.  "  They  shall  never  know 
how  fallen  I  urn."  Airs.  D.  was  not  much  surprised  that 


364  IIESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

she  did  not  return  that  night.  "  She  has  found  another 
boarding-place,"  she  thought.  The  next  day  an  express- 
man called  at  the  door,  and  handed  her  a  note  from  Re- 
gena,  as  she  supposed,  saying,  — 

"MRS.  D.  :  Please  pick  up  my  things;  pack  my 
trunks,  and  send  them  to  me  by  the  bearer  of  this  note. 
He  will  settle  any  accounts  you  may  have  against  me, 
and  take  a  receipt.  I  thought  it  best  not  to  annoy  you 
with  my  late  hours.  I  took  cold  last  night,  and  am  in- 
disposed to-day,  or  I  would  not  put  you  to  so  much 
trouble.  REGEXA  STEELE." 

Scarcely  had  the  expressman  departed  when  the  officer 
of  justice  came  to  inquire  for  Mr.  Adolphus  De  Wert, 
alias  Bill  Jones,  alias  somebody  else,  and  Mr.  Morris 
Kendall,  alias  Morris  Fox,  who,  report  said,  visited  the 
house  often  in  his  company.  Elida  fainted  when  the 
facts  in  this  tragedy  were  brought  to  light.  There  was 
no  select  party  —  nothing  but  a  plot  to  secure  her  per- 
son. She  told  Mrs.  D.  of  all  she  knew,  and  how  nearly 
she  had  been  tempted  to  accompany  Regena  in  her  per- 
ilous expedition.  She  wept,  and  gave  thanks  in  turn. 
Clara  was  shocked  at  the  sudden  departure  of  her  early 
friend,  but  knew  not  that  the  deceiver  had  been  so  fatally 
deceived. 

When  the  real  character  of  the  pretended  Mr.  De 
Wert  was  made  public,  the  friends  of  the  deluded  girl 
felt  painfully  certain  that  she  was  with  her  "  whose 
house  inclineth  unto  death,  and  her  paths  to  the  dead. 
Ay,  her  house  is  the  way  to  hell." 

"  Girls,"  said  Mrs.  D.,  impressively,  as  they  were 
seated  at  the  dinner  table,  "  take  warning  by  this  sad, 


DECEIVED    AND    DESERTED.  365 

heart-sickening  event.  It  is  a  fearful  tiling  to  trifle  away 
one's  life  !  We  cannot  take  coals  of  fire  in  our  bosom, 
and  not  be  burned." 

"  0,  my  daughter  !  my  daughter  !  "  said  Mrs.  Still- 
man,  who  had  just  arrived,  folding  her  arms  around 
Cfura ;  "thank  God  that  you  and  Elida  escaped  their 
well-laid  snares.  0,  death  were  a  thousand  times  better 
than  such  a  fate  as  Regena's.  I  cannot  thank  God 
enough." 

"  To  him  give  all  the  praise,  mother,"  said  Clara. 
"  But  I  must  go  home.  I  would  die  there.  I  never 
prized  it  as  I  do  now." 

"  And  I,  too,  must  go,"  said  Elida.  "  Providence  did 
not  send  me  here,  and  I  dare  not  stay." 

"  There  are  thousands  of  good,  pious  girls  in  the 
mills,"  said  Clara.  "  One  needs  only  to  be  a  consistent 
Christian  to  live  here  in  safety." 

"I  know  it  —  I  know  it,"  said  Elida;  "but  only 
think  how  near  I  came  to  ruin.  I  can't  get  over  the 
shock  I  have  received.  I  must  go  home." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  lose  you  and  Clara,"  said  Mrs.  D.  ; 
"but  I  can't  say  a  word  against  it.  If  such  things  can 
be  done  in  my  own  house  without  my  knowledge,  you 
will  be  safer  at  home.  After  this  I  shall  hardly  dare  to 
trust  my  senses.  I  shall  draw  the  reins  tighter  than 
ever.  There  will  be  no  more  night-keys  for  favorites, 
especially  if  they  are  pleasure-seekers." 

"  0,  Regena !  "  said  Hester  Strong,  "  beautiful  and 
gifted  by  nature  —  misguided,  deceived,  betrayed  Rc- 
gvna  !  firewell  !  Let  the  veil  of  night  arid  mystery  fall 
around  thec  to  hide  thy  shame,  while  we  weep  thy  fall. 
God  scathe  the  wretch  that  lured  thee  from  virtue  to 


366  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

vice  —  loathsome,  hideous  vice  !  Let  all  such  be  scorned 
and  treated  with  the  most  withering  contempt  by  the 
friends  of  God  and  virtue.  Then  our  daughters  and 
sisters  will  be  safe.  The  curse  of  God  will  follow  and 
consume  the  seducer,  the  libertine,  the  human  fiend ! 
We  will  not  stand  among  that  thoughtless,  guilty  num- 
ber who  smile  upon  and  caress  those  murderers  of  inno- 
cent loveliness.  No,  no  !  we  loathe  and  despise  them 
when  we  know  them,  and  we  pray,  '  God  help  us  to  dis- 
cern the  truth,  that  our  brother's  or  our  sister's  blood 
be  not  found  upon  our  skirts.' ' 

"  How  true  it  is  that  the  innocent  have  to  suffer  with 
the  guilty  !  "  said  Mrs.  Stillman.  "  I  am  glad  that  this 
is  not  our  home  ;  our  rest  remaineth." 

Clara  Stillman  was  but  a  shadow  of  her  former  self, 
physically,  when  she  reached  her  home  in  the  village  — 
a  pale,  weary,  emaciated  invalid ;  but  her  soul  was 
stayed  on  God  ;  she  had  found  peace  in  Christ. 

'•'  I  am  happier,"  she  used  to  say  to  those  who  came 
to  sympathize  with  her,  "  than  I  was  when  standing  on 
the  giddy  heights  of  folly  and  dissipation.  Perhaps  you 
cannot  believe  it ;  but  it  is  true.  To  me,  at  least,  the 
ball-room,  the  card-table,  the  theatre  were  all  unsatisfy- 
ing. They  left  a  sting  behind.  I  enjoyed  them  by  an- 
ticipation, and  often  at  the  time  ;  then  came  regret,  and 
often  disgust." 

Elida  fell  upon  aunt  Hester's  neck  when  she  reached 
home,  and  wept  uncontrollably  for  a  time. 

"  I  have  come  back  as  good  as  I  went,  auntie  ;  but  no 
thanks  to  myself,  for  I  wanted  to  join  the  giddy  dance. 
"Why,  dancing  was  born  in  me,  I  do  believe.  If  I  had 
been  a  finished  dancer,  I  should  have  been  overcome  by 


DECEIVED    AND    DESERTED.  367 

the  temptation  to   attend  balls ;  and  the  game,  once  be- 
gun, might  have  ended  where  poor  Rcgena  has  gone." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  have  my  Sunshine  back  again," 
said  Hester.  "  We  have  been  partially  under  a  cloud 
since  you  left  home.  You  are  a  little  wiser,  I  think, 
too,"  she  said,  looking  tenderly  into  the  beautiful  face. 
"  Now  you  will  believe  Martha  and  me  when  we  tell  you 
that  it  is  better  and  safer  to  dwell  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  than  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season.  0,  I 
want  my  children  to  enjoy  life  in  a  reasonable,  rational, 
substantial  way,  so  that  when  sickness,  or  trouble,  or 
old  age  shall  overtake  them,  their  peace  shall  flow  on 
like  a  river.  I  want  it  to  last  forever  and  ever  in  the 
kingdom  of  God." 


368  HESTER   STRONG'S   LIFE   WORK. 


CHAPTER     XXXVI. 

FORT  SUMTER  is  FALLEN.  —  THE  CALL  TO  ARMS.  —  WEEP 

ING    AT    THE    VILLAGE    DEPOT. 

PATIENT  reader,  you  have  not  forgotten  April  14, 
1861.  0,  no  !  you  will  never  forget  it.  You  remember 
how  the  hot  blood  mounted  to  brow  and  cheek,  how  the 
breath  came  slow  and  hard,  and  mind  and  heart  seemed 
crouching,  as  it  were,  beneath  the  mightiest,  the  newest, 
the  strongest  emotions  you  had  ever  felt,  when  it  was 
said,  — 

"  Fort  Sumter  has  surrendered  !  " 

Our  flag,  that  was  dearer  to  us  than  life,  because  the 
most  significant  flag  that  ever  floated  in  the  air  of  evening, 
or  fluttered  among  the  storm  clouds  on  the  seas,  had  been 
disgraced,  fired  upon  by  the  most  cowardly  and  malicious 
traitors  that  ever  cursed  a  nation.  The  Infinite  alone 
can  measure  the  height,  the  depth,  the  length,  and  breadth 
of  that  gigantic  deed,  which  was  but  opening  the  door 
6f  the  most  stupendous  rebellion  the  world  ever  saw. 
Reader,  you  know  it  all.  The  scenes  of  that  day,  and 
those  which  followed  it,  have  been  written  upon  your 
souls,  as  it  were,  with  a  pen  of  iron,  and  the  ink  was 
blood  —  the  blood  of  fathers,  of  husbands,  of  brothers, 
and  friends  !  0,  how  many  of  those  terribly  truthful 
passages  are  underlined,  underscored,  by  the  Buffering 
ones  in  our  land.  How  many  loved  ones  that  were,  are 


THE    CALL    TO    ARMS.  369 

not  I  Their  dust  has  mingled  with  the  dust  of  traitors  ; 
their  bones,  whitening  on  the  sin-cursed  soil  of  slavery, 
have  made  it  free  !  ay,  free  !  And  out  of  the  shadow  of 
the  greatest  grief  which  ever  crushed  the  heart  of  a 
mighty  nation,  the  beautiful,  the  sublime  pyramid  of  hu- 
man freedom  has  been  reared.  Founded  on  eternal  truth, 
built  with  the  solid  granite  of  eternal  justice,  cemented 
by  the  blood  and  dust  of  a  nation's  heroes,  of  the  good, 
the  true,  and  the  beautiful,  and  fashioned  by  the  almighty 
hand  of  Him  who  ruleth  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  —  it 
shall  stand  secure.  So  "  let  the  heathen  rage,  and  the 
people  imagine  a  vain  thing." 

You  remember  that  the  nation  sat  thus  but  one  little 
moment,  looking  inward  and  upward.  Then  she  arose, 
breathed  a  long,  deep  breath,  which  sent  the  life-blood 
coursing  through  every  vein,  causing  the  almost  palsied 
heart  to  leap  with  a  mighty  bound.  She  arose  like  a 
p'iunt  aroused  from  a  dream  of  peace  and  safety  to  see 
her  flag  trailing  in  the  dust  amid  the  smoke  of  battle  and 
the  noise  of  war  ;  and  the  cry  of  "  Treason  !  treason  !  " 
flew  like  lightning  over  land  arid  sea. 

"  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  The  foe  is  upon  us  !  God  give 
us  victory  or  death,"  was  the  low,  deep  utterance  of 
every  manly  heart. 

"  God  give  us  victory,  or  give  us  death,"  murmured 
every  true,  noble-hearted  woman,  as  she  pressed  her  hand 
over  the  fluttering  heart,  and  bowed  her  head  in  silent 
prayer  to  the  God  of  nations  and  the  God  of  war.  "  If 
it  had  been  an  enemy  that  had  done  this,  we  could  have 
borne  it."  The  nation  arose,  shook  itself  like  the  newly- 
awakened  lion,  girded  on  the  armor,  and  the  conflict,  the 
awful  conflict,  began.  Tyranny  and  oppression  on  one 


370  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

side,  freedom  and  human  brotherhood  on  the  other. 
There  was  terrible  earnestness  on  either  side ;  on  one 
side  bitter  hate,  malicious  cruelty,  wanton  wickedness, 
such  as  a  demon  would  shame  before,  methinks.  Such 
was  the  wily  foe  that  our  dear  ones  went  forth  to  meet. 
But  we  knew  that  God  was  with  them,  and  they  must 
prevail. 

"  God  bless  and  keep  you,"  were  the  parting1  words  of 
Hester  Strong1,  as  she  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  village 
depot.  "  God  bless  and  keep  you,  AVallace,  and  Albert, 
and  George.  Don't  forget  to  read  your  Bibles.  You 
will  find  them  near  the  top,  on  the  right  hand  side.  Carry 
them  near  your  hearts.  God  bless  and  keep  you  in  the 
day  of  battle,  and  in  the  hour  of  temptation  shield  you. 
Be  strong.  Good  by.  Dear  Mr.  Elwood,"  she  contin- 
ued, turning  to  the  young  pastor  of  the  village  church, 
who  was  going  out  as  chaplain,  "  God  bless  you  also, 
and  keep  you,  as  you  look  after  the  spiritual  interests  of 
our  loved  ones,  and  those  engaged  in  a  common  cause." 

Mr.  Elwood  looked  pale  and  thoughtful.  He  had  just 
come  from  a  sad,  sad  parting  with  one  who  was  very  dear 
to  him  —  our  old  friend  Lottie  Gray.  0,  there  was  weep- 
ing in  the  village  depot,  weeping  in  hundreds  of  little 
depots,  as  that  early  train  went  on  its  way  ;  weeping  in 
the  country  and  the  city,  on  the  land  and  on  the  sea  ;  a 
nation  weeping,  as  she  sent  forth  her  noblest  and  best  to 
perish,  it  might  be,  by  the  hand  of  treason  ;  and  that,  a 
base-born  brother's  hand.  For  this  was  the  second  call, 
and  we  knew  that  the  conflict  must  be  long,  that  blood 
must  flow  like  a  river.  There  was  a  crowd  at  the  village 
depot ;  fathers,  and  mothers,  and  sisters,  wives  and 
lovers.  Little  children  were  there,  trying  to  comprehend 


WEEPING    AT    THE    VILLAGE    DEPOT.  371 

the  mysteries  of  war  —  wondering  why  so  many  wept, 
and  smiled  when  weeping.  Winnie  was  there,  leaning 
heavily  on  the  arm  of  Howard;  thanking  God,  in  her1 
heart,  that  he  was  not  accepted  ;  chiding  herself  for 
the  selfish  joy,  weak  from  the  great  struggle  it  had  cost 
her  to  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  when  she  thought  that 
brother,  lover,  and  friends  were  to  go  together,  fight, 
and  perchance  fall.  Elida  was  clinging  to  the  arm  of 
Albert  Gray  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief. 

"0,  Wallace,  take  care  of  him.  Albert,  watch  over 
my  brother,  my  only  brother.  Good  by,  good  by,"  un- 
clasping the  unwilling  arms,  turning  the  weary  steps 
homeward,  to  wait,  and  watch,  and  labor  for  the  absent 
ones.  Ilattie  Herbert,  the  bride  of  a  day,  was  there, 
silent  and  pale.  No  word  escaped  her  lips  ;  a  smile 
sadder  than  tears,  a  kiss,  and  the  clasped  hands  open 
nervously,  and  the  train  passes  on.  How  near  those 
friends,  left  standing  there,  drew  together  in  that  hour  of 
parting  !  How  their  hearts  beat  in  unison,  as  they  tried 
to  fill  the  great  void,  made  by  that  parting  hour,  with 
hopes  of  victory  and  success  !  How  they  tried  to  hide 
their  fears,  their  doubts,  their  griefs  ! 

"  You  are  doubly  my  daughter  now,"  said  Mrs.  Gray, 
folding  Ilattic's  shrinking  form  to  her  bosom.  "  We  will 
wait,  and  weep,  and  pray,  till  the  tempest  is  over,  dear, 
and  our  Henry  restored  again." 

"  What  if  he  should  never,  never  come  ?  " 

"  We  will  hope  and  trust  till  the  blow  falls,  darling; 
and  if  come  it  must,  God,  our  God,  will  help  us.  Let 
us  be  cheerful.  This  is  no  time  to  sit  idly  down.  Poor 
Lottie  !  it  will  go  hard  with  her.  The  great  hope  of  lid- 
life  may  never  be  realized  ;  the  new  and  beautiful  joy 


372  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

which  has  sprung  up  in  her  heart  may  go  out  on  the  field 
of  blood.  And  Elida  :  how  strange  it  seems  to  see  her 
bright  face  veiled  iu  sadness  !  0,  we  must  be  strong, 
and  try  to  strengthen  them.  How  inexpressibly  sad  Mr. 
Frank  Lovering's  folks  looked  !  " 

"  Why,  has  George  gone  ?  " 

"  Yes.  How  brave  the  boys  were  !  how  they  tried  to 
be  cheerful !  none  more  so  than  George.  '  I  shan't  come 
back/  he  said,  '  without  a  laurel  wreath,  or  an  epaulet 
—  see  if  I  do.'  I  suppose  he  and  Lucy  are  engaged. 
How  very  calm  she  appeared  !  How  noble,  yes,  I  may 
say  beautiful,  the  boys  all  looked  !  for  Henry  is  a  boy  to 
me,  if  he  is  married.  Hattie,  how  little  I  thought,  when 
you  received  us  so  coldly,  perhaps  suspiciously,  that 
we  should  ever  be  drawn  so  very  near  to  each  other,  and 
by  such  a  tender  cord  !  " 

"  0,  mother,  never  speak  of  that  again,  I  beg  of  you. 
I  am  ashamed  of  it,  heartily  ashamed  of  it.  I  saw  my 
mistake  very  soon,  but  was  too  proud  to  own  it.  I  re- 
gretted leaving  home  very  much,  when  the  time  came. 
I  longed  to  have  you  or  father  urge  me  to  give  up  going, 
and  stay  at  home  ;  for  I  found,  soon  after  you  came  here, 
that  it  was  my  home  still  —  a  pleasant,  comfortable  home, 
such  as  I  had  not  known  for  a  long  time.  It  was  hard 
to  work  in  the  mill  after  that,  I  assure  you.  The  motive 
was  gone,  the  stern  necessity  removed.  It  didn't  seem 
pleasant  to  go  day  after  day,  rain  or  shine,  sick  or  al- 
most sick.  It  was  such  a  confinement  I  could  scarcely 
endure  it ;  but  I  thought  you  were  displeased  with  me 
for  going,  and  I  resolved  to  stay  it  out." 

"  Obstinate  little  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Gray ;  "  I  don't 
know  who  suffered  the  most,  you,  or  I,  or  your  father. 


WEEPING    AT    TIIE    VILLAGE    DEPOT.  373 

How  long  should  you  have  held  out  but  for  that  sickness, 
think  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  How  long  did  you  take 
care  of  me  before  I  realized  it  was  you  ?  " 

"  A  week,  I  think.  I  found  out  your  secret  when  you 
little  thought  of  letting  me  know  it,  and  resolved  to  take 
you  home  with  me  as  soon  as  you  were  able  to  be  moved. 
You  came  ;  I  have  never  been  sorry  :  have  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  not,  judging  by  the  way  I  have  nestled 
clown  here,  grudging  every  day  spent  away  from  home. 
Mother,  there  is  just  a  little  drop  of  comfort  in  the 
cup  of  sorrow  the  war  has  brought  me.  I  shall  stay  iu 
my  home  a  little  longer.  I  shrink  from  going  into  a 
strange  place." 

How  short  the  days  seemed  to  the  busy  village  folks  ! 
New-  cares  and  new  interests  had  sprung  up  in  the  fami- 
lies of  the  absent  ones.  Home  duties  were  interspersed 
with  labors  of  love  for  the  soldier  boys  ;  letters  written, 
with  bits  of  news,  kind  messages,  loving  words,  warn- 
ings, and  words  of  cheer  ;  letters  received  —  sad  let- 
ters, hopeful  letters,  full  of  love  and  bright  with  antici- 
pation. How  they  passed  from  one  to  the  other  in  the 
families  of  the  soldier  boys !  How  they  rejoiced  together, 
or  wept  together,  as  the  case  might  be  !  And  in  those 
awful  pauses,  when  man  was  arrayed  against  man  in  the 
deadly  conflict,  and  there  was  no  voice  to  whisper  at 
nightfall  the  fate  of  the  absent,  as  the  days  lengthened, 
and  the  hours  moved  slowly  on,  how  hard  it  was  to  wait, 
how  difficult  to  hope  and  pray  !  Then  it  was  pleasant 
to  see  the  noble  self-forgetfulness  of  those  who  suffered 
most,  and  see  them  smile  into  each  other's  faces,  as  if  they 
would  cheat  themselves,  and  rob  sorrow  of  half  its  sting. 


374  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  What  a  blessing  work  is ! "  Hester  used  to  say.  "  Our 
girls  seem  almost  to  forget  their  pain,  in  their  eagerness 
to  encourage  their  soldiers  and  make  them  comfortable." 

Reader,  you  know  all  this  :  why  need  I  tell  you  ?  The 
village  in  our  story  was  much  like  other  villages,  and 
the  human  hearts  in  it  like  other  human  hearts,  that  beat 
on  and  on  in  spite  of  anguish.  Grief  kills  —  but  slowly; 
and  hope  is  strong.  Justice  and  truth  go  hand  in  hand 
in  the  march  of  years.  Let  us  leave  our  noble  Lincoln, 
our  Abraham,  chosen  of  God  and  the  people  to  lead  our 
nation  through  the  storm  and  the  tempest,  our  generals 
to  lead  our  soldiers  in  the  battle,  and  God  over  all,  to 
the  end,  and  see  what  is  the  destined  life  work  of  our 
little  Fostina,  or,  as  she  is  now  called,  Mary  F.  Lentell. 
These  are  trying  days  to  her.  Hers  is  just  the  nature 
to  suffer  and  endure,  and  suffer  on  —  bend  even  to  the 
dust,  and  let  the  waves  pass  over ;  to  lie  shivering, 
bruised,  and  bleeding  for  a  time ;  then,  arising  to  wipe 
away  the  blood,  and  dust,  and  tears,  patiently  gathering 
the  mantle  of  hope  about  her  yet  cold  and  shrinking 
limbs  ;  walking  steadily  on  and  on  to  meet  and  breast 
another  wave  ;  struggling  to  outlive  the  last  one,  beating 
no  retreat.  Such  ones  are  heroes  —  God's  heroes,  man's 
blessings 


FOSTINA'S    LIFE    WORK    BEGINS.  315 


CHAPTER     XXXVII. 

FOSTINA'S    LIFE  WORK    BEGINS.  —  HESTER'S  STORY  OF  HER 
OWN  CHILDHOOD. 

"  WILL  my  poor  father  be  drafted  ?  "  Fostina  inquired 
often.  "  Would  it  cure  him  of  drinking  if  he  went  to 
the  war,  auntie  ?  " 

"  Dear  child,"  said  Hester  one  day,  "  how  very,  very 
much  you  think  of  your  father  !  Is  that  what  makes 
you  so  pale  and  thin  ? "  Fossie  leaned  her  head  on 
that  broad,  loving  bosom,  closed  her  eyes  wearily,  and 
sobbed, — 

"  Auntie,  I  can't  help  it.  My  darling  mamma  loved 
him,  and  I  am  his  little  girl.  I  have  heard  you  say  that 
a  little  child  shall  lead  them.  You  found  it  in  God's 
book.  I  am  growing  older  and  bigger  every  day,  and 
then  I  shall  have  to  say,  as  Winnie  did,  '  I  have  lost  that 
opportunity.'  '  She  buried  her  face  in  Hester's  bosom, 
and  wept  passionately,  as  she  had  often  done  because  of 
her  father's  inebriety.  "  Rum-maker  and  rum-seller," 
mused  Hester,  "what  do  you  think  God,  the  Judge,  will 
do  with  this  child's  tears,  and  thousands  of  other  chil- 
dren's tears  ?  wives'  tears,  and  sisters'  ?  Ay,  husbands, 
and  brothers,  and  fathers  arc  sometimes  called  to  weep 
over  the  sin  and  shame  you  cause.  What  if  God  should 
gather  up  those  tears  into  one  dark,  deep,  briny  ocean, 
and  doom  you  to  drink  from  the  bitter  fountain?  —  for- 


316  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

ever  drinking-  and  forever  dry  —  thirsty  and  drinking, 
but  never  satisfied.  He  is  able,  and  it  would  be  just. 
And  you  know  that  you  would  call  in  vain  for  a  drop  of 
water  from  the  pure,  cool  fountain  that  flows  on  and  on, 
forever,  near  the  throne.  None  ever  pass  the  gulf. 
'  Nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor  drunkards,  nor  revilers, 
nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.' 
And  such  are  ye.  Dear  child,"  said  Hester,  "  I  pity  you, 
and  God  pities  you.  That  is  what  I  used  to  tell  Winnie. 
Darling,  God  pities  you.  He  can  help  you  to  bear  this 
life-long  burden.  Do  you  ever  ask  him,  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  auntie,  and  something  tells  me  that  if  I  should 
go  and  stay  with  father,  I  could  get  him  to  sign  the 
pledge.  Can  I  go  ?  "  She  looked  up  timidly  into  her 
face. 

"  Fossie,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  asking,  dear. 
Your  grandmother  Lentell  is  very  cross  and  selfish,  and 
aunt  Abigail  is  much  like  her.  You  could  not  stay 
there;  my  little  girl  would  die."  -Hester  told  her  all 
the  circumstances  of  her  birth,  how  her  mother  had  been 
neglected,  how  very  low  she  found  her,  and  nursed  her 
back  to  life  again.  "  And  ever  since,"  she  said,  "  I 
have  watched  over  you  in  sickness  and  in  health.  And 
now  I  am  growing  old  ;  I  am  beginning  to  feel  infirm." 

"You,  auntie?  "said  the  child.  "Why,  I  thought 
you  were  young.  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

""0,  I  have  passed  the  allotted  time  of  man's  life.  I 
am  more  than  threescore  years  and  ten.  I  thank  God  for 
so  large  a  measure  of  health  and  strength.;  but  it  cannot 
last  always.  Some  time  I  shall  want  the  little  one  I 
rescued  from  death,  cherished  so  tenderly,  and  loved  so 
well,  to  lean  upon.  I,  in  my  turn,  shall  need  to  be 


FOSTINA'S    LITE    WORK    BEGINS.  377 

cherished.  Will  Fossie  do  it  ?  or  does  she  want  to  go 
and  live  with  those  who  have  never  done  her  a  single 
act  of  kindness,  and  blamed  me  for  bringing  you  to 
life  ?  "  The  child  wound  her  frail  arms  around  Hester's 
neck  impulsively,  saying,  — 

"  Darling  auntie-mamma  shall  have  her  baby  to  take 
care  of  her  when  she  is  old  and  sick.  I  will  come  back 
long  before  that.  I  will,  auntie  ;  I  know  I  shall.  And  I 
will  bring  my  father  with  me,  and  he  shall  plant  the 
garden,  and  cut  the  wood,  and  sleep  in  grandpa's  room. 
0,  won't  it  be  nice  !  And  then  you  will  forgive  your 
little  Fossie  all  her  naughtiness  —  won't  you,  auntie  ?  " 
Hester  looked  down  earnestly  into  the  sweet,  pale  face 
which  was  now  radiant  with  hope,  and  sighed,  for  she 
saw  no  chance  to  hope.  "  You  will  forgive  your  little 
Fossie  ?  "  she  again  inquired.  "  Say  that  you  will,  and 
that  I  may  bring  him  here  when  he  is  all  cured.  May 
I  ?  "  Her  eagerness  aroused  Hester  from  a  fit  of  ab- 
stracted thinking.  She  clasped  the  child  in  her  arms, 
saying,  — 

"  Why,  yes,  my  darling ;  of  course  I  shall  forgive  my 
Fossie.  She  has  been  a  good  little  girl  so  far,  and  I 
hope  she  always  will  be.  I  don't  expect  she  will  be 
faultless." 

"  Well,"  said  the  child,  "may  poor  father  come  hero 
when  he  gets  well  of  drinking  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  indeed,  he  may,  my  dear,  and  welcome/' 
Again  the  child  clung  to  Hester's  neck,  this  time  in 
silence.  Hester  and  Martha  were  puzzled  at  the  strange- 
ness of  her  conduct. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Martha,  when  they  were  alone, 
—  "1  don't  know  but  we  shall  have  to  let  her  go  up 


378  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

there,  and  see  for  herself.  It  is  strange  what  has 
possessed  her." 

"  Good  by,  little  pet,"  said  Hester,  a  few  days  after 
this  conversation.  "  Take  good  care  of  aunt  Martha 
till  Winnie  gets  home,  and  then  Howard  will  bring  you 
over  to  uncle  Giles'.  And  we  will  go  from  there  to 
grandpa's — won't  that  be  nice?"  Fossie  clung  to 
Hester's  neck,  and  seemed  loath  to  part  from  her.  She 
crept  to  her  room,  and  wept  long  and  bitterly.  She 
then  took  a  scrap  of  paper  she  had  been  sacredly  keep- 
ing for  the  occasion,  and  commenced  writing  word  after 
word  till  it  was  covered.  She  folded  it  with  a  sigh, 
saying,  — 

"  Well,  she  will  forgive  me ;  she  has  promised  it, 
and  she  never  lies.  I  am  glad  she  won't  know  it  for  a 
week,  and  I  shall  almost  get  him  to  sign  by  that  time. 
No  one  has  ever  told  him  how  wicked  it  was  ;  and  ho 
don't  know  he  has  got  a  little  Fossie  to  love  him." 
She  tied  up  some  of  her  dearest  treasures  in  a  little  bun- 
dle, and,  stealing  out  at  the  back  door,  took  the  road 
which  she  had  been  told  led  to  grandma  Lentell's. 

"  It  is  only  seven  miles  up  there.  Let's  see  ;  auntie 
told  me  once,  when  I  asked  her,  that  it  was  a  straight 
road  from  the  tavern.  I  know  where  that  is  ;  and  I 
must  turn  off  at  the  right  hand.  I  can  find  it.  And  the 
house  is  built  like  my  uncle  Mason's.  I  guess  they 
will  be  glad  to  see  me.  I  will  tell  them  what  I  came 
for.  Why,  I  thought  I  should  come  to  the  tavern  by 
this  time."  And  the  little  feet  went  faster  and  faster, 
the  little  heart  beat  quicker,  and  the  breath  came  harder. 
"  It  is  a  great  wa}Ts  farther  walking  than  it  is  riding," 
sighed  the  tired  traveller.  "  I  shall  have  to  rest.  I 


FOSTINA'S    LIFE    WORK    BEGINS.  379 

wish  1  could  find  such  a  beautiful  arbor  as  Christian  did 
to  rest  in.  I  haven't  any  roll  to  lose,  only  my  bundle, 
and  I  could  hang  that  on  my  arm.  0,  here  is  a  nice, 
cool  place  under  this  tree.  I  can  lean  my  head  against 
the  tree,  for  it  aches.  I  am  glad  aunt  Hester  promised 
to  forgive  me,  and  glad  I  learned  to  write.  Now  she 
will  know  where  I  am,  and  won't  think  I'm  lost.  I  will 
say  my  prayers  first. "  She  knelt  on  the  green  grass, 
and  prayed  that  prayer  which  she  had  so  often  and  so 
sincerely  uttered,  closing  with,  — 

"  0  Lord,  save  my  father,  and  help  me  to  reform  him, 
for  Jesus'  sake."  That  was  the  last  she  remembered. 
Two  hours  passed,  and  she  still  slept.  She  was  aroused 
by  the  rattling  of  wheels,  and  sprang  up  bewildered  from 
her  long,  deep  sleep,  just  as  Mr.  Trueman  reined  up  his 
horse. 

"  Why,  little  Fossie,  is  that  you  ?  I  thought  you 
would  be  farther  along.  Come,  get  into  my  carriage. 
Aunt  Martha  is  distressed  about  you,  dear." 

"  0,  Mr,  Trueman,"  said  the  child,  distressed  in  her 
turn,  as  she  saw  her  bright  dream  of  happiness  vanish- 
ing, —  "  0,  Mr.  Trueman,  please  let  me  go.  0,  let  me. 
God  wants  me  to.  I  have  asked  him  a  thousand  times, 
I  should  think,  to  save  him,  and  he  hasn't  done  it.  I 
know  he  is  waiting  for  me  to  go  to  father,  and  lead  him 
back.  0,  let  me  go  —  let  me  go.  I  must!"  She 
knelt  there  on  the  grass  again,  folded  her  hands,  and 
prayed  this  time  that  she  might,  bo  allowed  to  go  on  her 
pilgrimage.  "  It  is  only  seven  miles,"  she  said.  "  I 
will  come  back  long  before  aunt  Hester  gets  old  and  lame. 
I  will,  Mr.  Trueman  ;  I  will  bring  father,  and  we  will 
kill  the  fatted  calf,  and  you  shall  come  and  eat  some  « 


380  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFK    WORK. 

it.  Dear,  good,  kind  Mr.  Trueman,  don't  take  me  prison- 
er," she  said,  as  he  alighted  from  his  carriage,  much  affect- 
ed by  what  he  saw  and  heard.  "  0,  don't  take  me  prisoner 
and  put  me  in  jail,  for  I  am  not  a  deserter.  I  wrote  it 
all  on  a  piece  of  white  paper ;  and  I  want  to  go  back 
myself  and  confess,  when  I  have  found  my  mission.  I 
heard  aunt  Martha  tell  aunt  Hester  she  believed  I  wag 
saved  for  some  kind  of  a  'mission.'  Aunt  Hester  nod- 
ded, and  whispered,  '  Perhaps  it  will  be  to  save  her 
father.'  I  heard  it;  but  they  wouldn't  let  me  go  ;  and 
so  I  went.  0,  don't  carry  me  away  from  my  '  opportu- 
nity ! '  Winnie  lost  hers." 

"  Be  cairn,  little  Fossic ;  I  shan't  take  you  prisoner, 
and  you  are  not  a  deserter ;  you  are  a  good  little  girl. 
But  I  want  you  to  go  home  with  me  now.  Sec,  the  sun 
is  almost  down  ;  it  will  be  dark  soon.  You  have  had  no 
dinner,  and  will  have  no  supper.  You  will  have  to  sleep 
out  in  the  damp,  dark  night,  and  get  cold,  and  die,  per- 
haps ;  and  then  you  will  lose  your  '  opportunity.'  But," 
he  continued,  "  if  you  will  go  home  with  me,  they  will 
let  you  go.  They  must ;  and  I  will  carry  you  witli  your 
clothes,  and  come  up  in  a  week,  and  see  if  you  want  to 
go  home." 

"I  shan't,  Mr.  Trueman;  I  shan't  go  home  till  father 
goes  with  me,  and  then  I  shall  want  to  come.  I  shall 
want  a  new -hat  from  your  store,  and  some  clothes  that 
are  nice  and  clean  ;  and  aunt  Hester  must  come  out  to 
meet  us,  and  kiss  him,  and  put  a  ring  on  his  finger ;  for 
grandpa  is  dead,  you  know,  and  she  will  do  just  as  well." 
Mr.  Trueman  smiled  sadly  as  he  handed  the  young  en- 
thusiast into  the  carriage.  "  I  am  glad  they  don't  call 
me  a  deserter.  I  was  afraid  they  would.  That  is  awful 


FOSTINA'S    LIFE    WORK    BEGINS.  381 

—  isn't  it  ?  They  shoot  them  in  the  army  ;  and  I  didn't 
know  but  you  would  take  >me  prisoner  —  that  means  to 
take  people  where  they  don't  want  to  go.  I  hope  they 
will  let  me  use  my  '  opportunity, '  and  go  to  my  '  mis- 
sion.' AVinnie  said  father  loved  children ;  and  I  am 
growing  so  fast,  I  was  afraid  I  shouldn't  get  him  to  sign 
if  I  waited."  Hester  and  Martha  stood  anxiously  watch- 
ing at  the  gate  when  Mr.  Trueman  rode  up  with  the  lit- 
tle truant.  Fossie  seemed  embarrassed  when  she  met 
them,  and  commenced  crying.  "  Mr.  Trueman  says  I 
am  not  a  deserter  ;  and  I  was  coming  right  back,  just  as 
soon  as  I  had  done  God's  errand  :  that  is  what  he  saved 
me  for.  I  knew  you  would  be  so  glad.  What  made 
you  come  home  so  soon,  auntie  ?  " 

"  A\7hy,  darling,  aunt  Martha  sent  for  me.  You  have 
frightened  us." 

"  /,  auntie  ?  AVhy,  I  wrote  it  all  in  a  letter.  I 
thought  you  would  know  where  I  was.'7 

"  0,  birdie  bird,  didn't  you  know  it  was  a  long,  long 
way  for  a  little  girl  like  you  to  go  alone  ?  —  didn't  you, 
dear  ?  You  might  get  lost,  and  have  to  sleep  out  doors, 
and  take  cold.  0,  darling,  don't  ever  do  such  a  thing 
again  ;  "  and  Hester  kissed  the  little  pale,  sweet  face, 
from  which  the  joys  of  childhood  had  been  driven  by  that 
accursed  love  of  gain  which  pampers  the  drunkard's  love 
of  drink.  Martha  left  her  work,  and  knelt  J^y  the  child- 
heroine,  who  was  bound  to  their  hearts  by  such  a  mys- 
terious cord. 

"  Little  Mary,"  she  murmured,  —  "  my  Mary,  grand- 

Mary,  —  welcome  home  for  a  night.      To-morrow,  if 

yi MI  wish  it,  we  will  send  you.     But,  precious,  you  will 

'/ar;l,    rmigh   times.       It  won't   be   like    this    home. 

They   don't    luve   eacli   other   there." 


382  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  "Won't  they  love  me  ?  "  said  the  child.  "  I  guess 
they  will.  God  will  make  them  ;  he  is  going-  with  me." 
Uester  was  weeping  ;  it  was  a  strange  sight  for  little 
Fossie.  Martha  often  wept ;  she  was  used  to  that. 

"Don't,  auntie  —  don't  cry,"  she  said  ;  "  Fossie  will 
stay." 

"  No,  darling.  I  am  willing  you  should  go.  I  was 
thinking  of  the  past,  dear  —  of  the  past ;  thoughts 
which  you  could  not  understand  came  crowding  into 
my  mind  —  thoughts  and  feelings  buried  long  ago  ;  for  I 
have  lived  a  great  while  in  this  world  of  changes.  I  was 
thinking  how  many,  many  years  I  longed,  with  an  inde- 
scribable longing,  to  learn  something  of  my  father,  who 
perished  on  the  ocean  ;  it  was  supposed  shipwrecked  at 
sea  in  a  gale.  They  knew  the  ship  was  lost,  and  the 
crew  were  never  heard  from  more.  My  mother  clung 
to  the  vain  hope  that  he  was  saved.  It  was  before  I  was 
born,  Fossie,  just  before  ;  and  they  said  my  mother 
watched  and  waited,  with  a  pale,  calm  face,  month  after 
month.  She  watched  and  waited  silently,  wasting  day 
by  day.  They  hoped  her  helpless  baby  would  arouse 
her  from  this  waiting,  listening  posture ;  but  no.  She 
talked  to  rne  of  papa,  my  dear  papa,  saying,  — 

"  Hush,  hush  !  "  with  her  finger  to  her  pale  lips 
"  hush  !  the  captain  is  coming  —  hush  !  "  and  thus  si 
sat,  straining  every  nerve  ;  but  he  came  not.  They  car 
ried  her  far  and  near ;  they  did  all  they  could  to 
her ;  but  she  died,  listening  and  waiting.  They 
me  that  when  dying  she  started  up,  and  reached  out  h< 
arms,  saying,  with  a  smile  of  angelic  sweetness, 
last !  at  last !  "  and  expired,  leaving  me  a  helpless  it 
fant.  Fossie,  1  was  older  than  you,  I  think,  when  I  gave 


HESTER'S    STOIIY    OF    HER    OWN    CHILDUOOD.          383 

up  the  idea  that  I  should  see  my  father.  I  listened  eager- 
ly to  stories  of  -wanderers  returning.  I  imagined  him  a 
captive  on  some  lonely  island.  I  thought  of  him  as  a 
prisoner,  and  wished  that  I  was  a  man,  so  that  I  could 
go  and  find  him.  I  dreamed  of  him  as  returning  poor, 
old,  and  sick,  and  sometimes  as  rich,  and  with  a  princely 
bearing.  Child,  I  can't  blame  you.  Your  father  was 
manly,  and  had  noble  qualities  ;  go  and  save  him.  I 
will  give  you  his  last  letter  to  your  dear  mother  when 
she  was  dying.  I  will  read  it  over  and  over  with  you, 
until  you  can  read  it  to  him.  It  may  do  him  good.  Tell 
him  you  are  sent  to  claim  the  fulfilment  of  that  sacred 
promise.  •  Tell  him  his  Harmony  is  waiting  and  watching 
for  him  in  heaven,  and  Jesus  is  waiting  to  forgive  and 
save."  Fossie  had  listened  attentively  to  Hester's  nar- 
ration. 

"  And  so  you  didn't  find  your  papa?  He  was  hidden 
in  the  sea.  What  made  you  feel  better  about  him  ?  " 

"  It  was  my  mother's  dying  expression.  When  I  was 
thinking  it  over  one  day,  and  weeping,  it  came  into  my 
rnind  with  great  power,  that  as  the  golden  cord  was 
breaking,  and  the  tried  spirit  released  from  its  sufferings, 
my  father  came  to  meet  her.  And  from  that  day  he  was 
dead  to  me." 

"  Did  you  tell  any  one  of  your  feelings  ?  "  said  Mar- 
tha. "  I  never  heard  of  it." 

"  No,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  they  never  knew  anything 
about  it ;  and  I  heard  more  than  they  thought,  or  I 
never  should  have  known  that  I  was  not  in  my  own 
father's  house.  It  was  chiefly  visitors  that  spoke  of 
these  things ;  Mr.  Lovering's  family  never.  So,  now, 
dear,  you  sshall  not  have  to  run  away  to  find  your  father. 


384  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

Since  you  wish  it  so  much,  we  will  consider  that  it  is 
from  above,  and  bid  you  God-speed  ;  for  I  know  you 
have  sought  counsel  of  him  in  your  childish  way.  Who 
knows  but  you  may  save  him  ?  " 

"  0,  I  shall,  auntie —  I  shall.  And  when  I  come  lead- 
ing him  home,  I  want  you  to  come  out  with  mother's  wed- 
ding ring,  —  Winnie  will  let  you  have  it,  —  and  put  it  on 
his  little  finger,  and  kiss  him  and  me.  And  aunt  Maitha 
must  attend  to  the  fatted  calf,  because  she  is  the  young- 
est ;  and  Mr.  Trueman  is  going  to  put  clean  new  clothes 
on  him  out  of  his  store.  lie  said  he  would  when  we 
were  riding  home  ;  and  he  said  he  might  work  in  the 
store,  too.  0,  won't  the  girls  be  glad,  and  Wallace, 
and  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  shall  all  be  glad,  and  methinks  there  will  be 
joy  in  heaven  when  that  day  comes,"  said  Martha,  rev- 
erently. "  But  you  will  have  to  give  me  notice,"  she 
continued,  sportively,  "  or  I  can't  get  a  good  fat  calf  for 
the  joyful  occasion." 

"  0,  that  won't  be  any  matter,  auntie.  It  means  that 
we  should  be  happy,  and  have  something  good,  as  we  do 
Thanksgiving  Day  —  doesn't  it  ?  Will  you  both  prom- 
ise ?  " 

"  Yes ;  we  will  do  all  we  can,  dear.  So  pleasant 
dreams  ;  for  to-morrow  your  work,  as  a  reformer,  begins 
in  earnest." 


LOVE'S    GOLDEN    KEY.  385 


CHAPTER     XXXVIII. 

LOVE'S   GOLDEN   KEY,    OR   A    NEW  ERA   IN   THE  LENTELL 

FAMILY. 

"  ARE  you  my  grandmother  ?  "  said  little  Fossie,  as 
Abigail  Lentell  opened  the  door.  Abigail  laughed  a 
coarse,  derisive  laugh.  It  was  so  strange,  so  new,  to 
the  child,  that  she  started  back,  and  looked  up  earnestly 
into  the  sympathizing  face  of  Mr.  Trueman,  and  then 
back  into  the  unsympathizing  face  of  Abigail. 

"  What  do  ye  want  ?  "  said  Abigail,  sharply. 

"  I  want  my  father,  and  he  lives  with  my  grand- 
mother." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  yer  granny,  nor  yer  father,  ye  see. 
Whose  young  one  are  ye  ?  " 

"  I  am  aunt  Hester's  little  girl,  I  am,  and  Morgan 
Lentell  is  my  father,  and  my  grandmother's  name  is 
Mehitable  Hum,"  said  the  child,  innocently.  She  had 
heard  Elida  cull  her  that  name  till  she  really  thought  it 
was  so. 

"0,"  said  Abigail,  sneeringly,  "ye  come  by  one  of 
yer  aunts  —  did  ye  ?  What  do  ye  want  of  yer  father  ? 
The  sot  can't  do  nothin'  for  ye.  They  needn't  pack  ye 
off  up  here  ;  we've  got  'nuff  to  do  to  maintain  him  in  his 
laziness.  So  ye  may  tramp  back." 

"  But  I  want  to  see  my  father,"  was  the  reply,  as  the 
child  folded  her  soft,  delicate  hands,  and  looked  plead- 
25 


386  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

ingly  into  the  hard,  sharp  face.  "  I  want  to  see  him 
—  I  must.  I  have  come  to  cure  him  of  drinking  rum, 
and  then  he  shall  go  to  my  home,  and  not  trouble  you 
any  more." 

"  Pretty  tall  doin's  for  a  little  scrimp  like  you."  Abi- 
gail was  softened  a  little  by  the  tearful  earnestness. 
"  Come  in,  an'  see  what  yer  granny  says.  'Twon't  do  to 
put  on  no  Loverin'  airs  'fore  her.  C-a-1-1  ?  "  This  was 
said  reluctantly,  with  a  nod  towards  the  carriage. 

"  No,  I  thank  yoxi,"  said  Mr.  Trueman.  "  I  will  sit 
here  until  you  see  whether  the  little  Fostina  will  be  per- 
mitted to  stay  and  get  acquainted  with  her  father's 
family.  She  has  longed  to  come,  but  her  friends  feared 
she  would  not  be  welcome,  and  I  perceive  she  is  not. 
But  yesterday  she  actually  started  on  foot,  and  alone, 
and  walked  until,  overcome  by  fatigue,  she  sat  by  the 
roadside  and  slept.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  I  found 
her  there,  and  she  begged  so  bard  to  be  allowed  to  come, 
that  I  promised  to  bring  her  to-day.  You  sec  she  is  a 
brave  little  thing1,  and  thinks  a  good  deal  of  the  Lentell 
connections." 

"  What !  run  away  from  the  Loverin  V  to  come  here  ? 
Sho  !  she  didn't,  though  !  " 

"  Yes,  she  did,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  she  is  determined 
to  form  your  acquaintance.  She  is  a  frail  child ;  be 
tender  of  her  if  she  stays.  But  I  hope  she  will  be  willing 
to  return  with  me.  They  will  miss  her  sadly  at  home." 

"They  will,  hey?  Well,  come,  Fussy;  that's  yer 
name  —  ain't 'it  ?  let's  go  to  granny.  She's  lame  as  a 
horse.  She'll  like  ye  to  bring  her  things,  and  take  up 
her  stitches.  An'  I'll  bake  ye  a  turnover  and  twist  ye  a 
doughnut,  I  guess,  if  ye  wanted  to  come  an'  see  us. 


LOVE'S    GOLDEN    KEY.  387 

Don't  be  scairt ;  the  old  woman  is  cross,  but  she  never 
bites,  an'  it's  easy  'nuff  to  git  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
crutches.  Ye  wanted  to  come  an'  see  how  yer  granny 
lived  —  did  ye  ?  I  like  yer  grit." 

Fossie  looked  pained  and  puzzled. 

"  They  talked  badly  to  my  Jesus,"  she  thought,  "  and 
I  am  his  disciple  ;  so  I  must  bear  it.  I  wonder  what  a 
granny  is.  I  will  wait  and  see." 

"  Harm,  here's  Morgan's  youngest  young  one,  an' 
she's  the  right  sort,  too.  Why,  she  run  away  from 
Hester  an'  the  rest  on  urn  to  come  an'  live  with  us. 
She'll  be  handy  to  pick  up  yer  stitches." 

The  little  wiry,  witchy  woman  had  grown  more  wizened 
and  withered-looking  than  evter.  The  wrinkled  face,  with 
the  sharp  gray  eyes  sunken  beneath  a  rim  of  black, 
looked  hideous  ;  the  long  chin  hung  loosely ;  the  blue 
lips  missed  the  sharp  grinders,  and  the  long  nose  seemed 
peering  in  at  the  open  door  of  the  mouth.  Fossie  looked, 
and  shrank  away  —  not  so  much  at  the  ugly  features, 
the  long,  wrinkled  hands,  with  the  light  cords  and  the 
dark  ones  stretched  lengthwise  through  them,  the  dark 
nails  at  the  tips  ;  but  the  look  of  cold  scrutiny,  the  entire 
absence  of  any  kind  of  Igveliness  in  expression,  voice,  or 
feature,  shocked  her.  She  remembered  what  Hester 
and  Martha  had  told  her. 

The  old  lady  finished  her  scrutiny. 

"  Whose  young  one  did  ye  say  it  was  ?  " 

"  Morgan's,"  screamed  Abigail.  "  You  never  saw 
her  after  she  was  a  week  old  or  so." 

"  What  did  ye  say  she  was  here  for  ?  an'  where  did 
she  come  from  ?  " 

Again  Abigail  screamed  the  information,  saying, — 


388  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Yer  granny's  as  deaf  as  an  adder.  Ye'll  have  to 
pipe  up.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  was  the  conclusion  of  Abigail's 
second  version  of  the  story. 

"  She'll  cure  him  !  I  guess  so.  The  evil  one  couldn't 
do  it." 

"I  can't,"  said  Fossie ;  "but  God  is  more  powerful 
than  the  evil  one,  and  he  can  cure  him.  Satan  don't 
want  to." 

"Bravo,  little  Fussy  !  you'll  do,"  said  Abigail. 

"Wat  is  she  a-sayin',  Nabby  ?  "  with  a  curious  look. 

"  0,  she  says  the  Lord  can  beat  the  devil  any  day  — 
that's  all." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  said  Mehitable  ;  "  she's  none  of  yer  Lov- 
erin's  ;  she'll  do,  Nabby ;  let  her  stay.  She's  wuth 
'bout  as  much  as  a  taller  candle  for  help  ;  but  we've  got 
'nuff  to  eat.  Good  for  Hester ;  I'm  glad  on't.  They 
want  'er.  Well,  I  guess  we  can  buy  'er  as  pooty  things 
as  them  Loverin's.  0,  hum,  hum  !  Well,  take  off  yer 
things,  an'  Nabby  '11  give  ye  a  doughnut.  Got  any 
twisted  ones,  Nabby  ?  " 

"  What  do  ye  say,  Fussy  ? "  said  Abigail,  in  her 
pleasantest  tones.  "  Will  ye  stay  an'  eat  red  apples, 
an'  butternuts,  an'  'elp  Nabby  make  the  links  ?  Ye  can 
punch  um  with  the  new  puncher.  Ever  seen  one  ?  Got 
a  new  one.  An'  we  make  cider  sarse.  Did  ye  ever  eat 
any  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  child.  "What  are  links?  Those 
long  things  that  we  fry  and  eat  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  an'  ye  shall  have  plenty  of  puukin  pie,  too  ; 
so  run  an'  tell  the  man  that  yer  goin'  to  stay." 

"  0,  yes,  I  mean  to  stay  if  you  will  let  me.  And  I 
can  punch  the  links,  I  guess.  I  stick  a  fork  in  them 
sometimes  to  let  the  wat'-r  out.  Will  that  do  ?" 


LOVE'S    GOLDEN    KEY.  389 

"  0,  you'll  do,  I  guess." 

Fossie  climbed  up  into  the  carriage,  saying,  — 

"  0,  Mr.  Trueman,  I  didn't  know  ;  but  I  shall  stay  — 
I  must.  My  Jesus  bore  the  cross  for  me,  and  I  can  stay 
here  for  him." 

Mr.  Trueman  saw  the  turn  things  were  taking.  He 
knew  the  state  of  Mrs.  Lentell's  heart  towards  Hester  and 
the  Loverings.  He  saw  that  the  child  would  not  only 
be  tolerated,  but  petted  in  their  way,  if  they  could  tor- 
ment Hester  and  the  Loverings  by  so  doing.  A  low, 
base  motive,  to  be  sure,  but  it  would  make  the  child- 
missionary  more  comfortable,  her  life  tolerable. 

"  Fossie  dear,"  he  whispered,  "  don't  speak  of  Hester 
or  the  Loverings  ;  your  grandmother  and  aunt  dislike 
them,  and  they  won't  like  you  if  you  do.  Think  of  them 
often,  dear  child,  and  love  them.  They  have  been  good 
and  kind  to  you,  and  love  you  as  they  do  themselves. 
If  they  say  unkind  things  about  them,  just  you  keep 
those  little  lips  closed.  Don't  get  angry,  but  ask  God 
to  help  you  bear  it.  It  won't  hurt  auntie,  or  any  of 
them,  and  it  will  help  you  to  save  your  father." 

"  May  I  speak  to  father  about  them,  if  he  will  let  me, 
when  we  are  alone." 

"  Yes,  dear ;  tell  him  how  good  they  are.  I  shall 
call  to  see  you  in  a  week,  and  then  perhaps  you  will  go 
home  with  me." 

"0,  if  I  could  1  but  the  prodigal  won't  come  to  ep 
Boon  ;  aunt  Hester  thinks  so.  I  shall  have  to  wait." 

"  Perhaps,"  was  the  reply,  "you  can  sow  some  good 
peed,  and  leave  it  for  the  Lord  to  water ;  we  will  see. 
Good  by  !  1  shall  come  and  see  how  you  like  your  littlo 
girl  in  a  week,"  said  he,  as  Abigail  came  out  to  seo 
where  "  Fussy  "  was,  as  she  persisted  in  calling  her. 


390  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOKK. 

"  0,  we'll  do  nicely.  Tell  them  Loverings  we  can 
dress  her  and  send  her  to  meetin'  as  well  as  they.  She's 
a  bright  one,  and  knows  which  side  her  bread  is  buttered 
on.  "Win  is  a  stuck-up  school-marm,  they  say,  an'  Wall 's 
gone  a-sogerin',  an'  Lide's  gone  to  the  mill.  Site  tillers 
knew  a  thing  or  two.  I  hate  yer  stuck-up  folks." 

"  She  is  at  home  learning  dress-making  now,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Sho  1  she  ain't,  though  —  is  she  ?  Well,  they're  all 
'bout  alike.  We'll  try  to  get  some  of  the  stuck-up-ness 
out  of  this  one.  -  She's  the  first  of  um  that's  been  near 
us  since  Hester  stole  um." 

"  Well,  good  afternoon,"  said  Mr.  Trueman.  "  I  must 
go.  Good  by,  Fossie." 

"  I  am  going  to  ride  just  down  to  the  corner,  aunt 
Abigail,"  she  said.  "  I  will  run  right  back  in  a  moment, 
and  punch  the  links,  or  do  anything  you  want  me  to." 

"  That's  a  good  one,"  said  Abigail,  who  supposed  it 
was  said  in  jest,  and  not  that  the  child  was  in  utter  ig- 
norance of  what  punching  the  links  could  mean. 

"  Mr.  Trueman,"  she  whispered,  holding  her  hand  be- 
fore her  mouth,  "you  don't  think  that  my  grandmother 
is  a  witch  —  do  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Trueman  smiled. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Trueman,  there  are  some  witches.  There 
was  one  in  the  Bible  that  raised  up  Samuel,  you  know; 
and  I  have  seen  a  picture  of  one  on  a  broomstick,"  she 
said,  confidentially.  "  Did  you  ever  see  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Trueman  tried  to  look  grave  as  he  replied,  — 

"  There  were  some,  I  know,  in  King  Saul's  day  ;  but 
I  think  he  caused  them  all  to  be  destroyed,  except  that 
one ;  and  she  died  soon  after  that,  and  there  have  been 


LOVE'S    GOLDEN    KEY.  391 

none  since."  lie  spoke  very  decidedly,  and  with  a 
great  deal  of  assurance. 

"  Well,  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Fossie.  "  My  grandmother 
does  look  like  the  picture  I  saw.  Perhaps  that  was  one 
of  the  old  ones  that  Saul  killed." 

"  I  presume  so,"  said  Mr.  Trueman  ;  "  but  you  may 
be  sure  she  is  not  a  witch,  or  she  would  not  be  suffered 
to  live.  She  has  worked  very  hard,  and  is  old,  and 
hasn't  practised  the  Christian  graces.  That  is  what 
makes  her  look  so  forbidding,  for  in  a  measure  we  come 
to  look  like  our  lives.  If  we  are  habitually  cross  and 
selfish,  we  look  ugly  ;  if  kind  and  loving,  we  look  pleas- 
ant and  peaceful  even  in  old  age.  Good  by." 

Fostina  returned  to  attend  to  her  opportunity,  as  she 
called  it,  and  overcome  difficulties  an  older  and  wiser 
head  than  hers  would  shrink  from  enco'untering.  She 
said  God  was  going  with  her,  and  he  did  go.  Everything 
she  said  and  did  was  "  brave,"  and  "  smart,"  and 
"bright."  Verily  the  Lord  turneth  the  hearts  of  men  at 
his  will.  Suffer  she  must  from  their  coarseness  ;  it  was 
new  and  irreverent  to  the  pure-minded  child.  IIow  often 
she  remembered  what  aunt  Martha  said  —  "  They  don't 
love  each  other  there  "  !  How  she  missed  the  love  !  She 
was  puzzled  to  understand  their  language  ;  it  was  a  new 
di;ilect.  But  she  was  a  zealous  little  missionary,  and  God 
taught  her,  and  shielded  her  from  their  bitter  hate. 

Mr.  Trueman  went  homo  thinking  more  meanly  of  in- 
temperance, wherever  it  might  be  found.  In  the  palace, 
or  in  the  hut,  in  the  parlor  or  the  bar-room,  in  high 
places  or  low  places,  at  home  or  abroad,  all  the  same 
—  the  meanest,  the  weakest,  and  the  most  damning  vice 
men  or  devils  ever  indulged  in.  lie  groaned  as  ho 


392  HESTER   STRONG'S   LIFE   WORK. 

thought  how  little  the  Maine  Law  had  accomplished. 
"And  yet,"  he  thought,  "I  must  admit  it,  that  it  has 
accomplished  much  here,  where  it  has  been  in  force." 

He  sighed  that  in  places  of  trust  and  honor  the  evil 
was  increasing.  Those  set  to  guard  the  interest  and 
virtue  of  the  nation  were  turning  traitors  to  the  nation's 
•good,  and  drowning  their  God-given  faculties  in  the  in- 
toxicating cup.  "  Shame,  shame  on  such  meanness  !  Set 
up  to  govern  the  people,  by  the  people,  and  cannot  gov- 
ern a  little  clamoring  appetite !  To  govern  the  people, 
and  such  a  people,  and  cannot  govern  self!  Shame,  I 
say,  shame  !  "  lie  spoke  aloud  ;  his  horse  stopped,  put 
back  his  ears,  and  listened.  "  I  don't  mean  you,  old 
Charlie  ;  you  are  more  of  a  man  than  they  who  sip  wine 
at  the  card-table,  or  in  the  gilded  saloon,  though  they 
pass  in  the  '  best  society/  "  he  eaid,  sarcastically,  "  and 
drink  from  a  golden  goblet,  or  a  silver  cup.  Go  on,  old 
Charlie  ;  you  will  never  die  a  drunkard,  nor  make  another 
so ;  and  in  God's  sight,  I  think  you  are  more  noble  and 
worthy  than  they  who  do  such  things.  I  can't  see  the 
point  of  difference ;  getting  drunk  is  getting  drunk, 
whether  the  deed  is  accomplished  by  the  best  of  imported 
wines  and  brandies,  or  on  rum  and  cider.  0  that  men 
would  see  this,  and  act  up  to  their  high  prerogatives ! 
If  I  were  the  voice  of  the  people,  none  but  men  who  were 
temperate  in  all  things  should  govern  this  people  —  men 
who  could  rule  their  appetites  and  passions,  and  rule  the 
people  in  justice  and  equity.  Then,  and  not  till  then, 
shall  we  be  truly  prosperous  and  happy." 

"  Where  is  my  father,  aunt  Abigail  ?  "  said  Fossie. 
"  I  want  to  see  him,  and  begin  my  mission." 


LOVE'S    GOLDEN    KEY.  393 

"That  is  a  good  joke,  Fussy.  How  come  they  to 
give  you  such  a  homely  name  ?  " 

"  0,  my  name  is  Mary  Fostina  ;  but  they  call  me 
Fossie." 

"  Sho  !  Is  that  it  ?  Well,  Fussy  will  do,  for  you  are 
a  strange  little  thing  ;  not  a  mite  like  the  young  ones 
in  the  other  room." 

"  Aunt  Hester  said  I  was  a  good  girl,"  said  Fossie,  as 
she  raised  those  large,  dark,  mournful  eyes  to  her  aunt's 
face. 

"0,  you'll  do,"  said  Abigail,  laughing,  "you'll  do. 
I'll  buy  ye  a  china  rnug,  with  a  flower  on  it,  to  drink 
milk  out  of,  if  ye  won't  git  homesick." 

She  was  touched  by  the  child's  expression,  which  was 
a  strange  commingling  of  smiles  and  tears,  of  sadness 
struggling  with  mirth.  Her  very  artless  truthfulness 
was  mistaken  for  wit,  and  they  called  it  droll. 

"  I  should  like  a  china  mug  very  much,"  said  Fossie. 
"  Did  you  say  there  were  children  in  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  grist  of  um  ;  but  they  won't  beat  you,  Fussy." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  ;  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  beaten. 
Who  are  they  ?  " 

This  was  sajd  in  the  child's  own  peculiar  ingenuous, 
demure  way,  which  was  her  greatest  charm.  Abigail 
was  delighted  with  it ;  she  laughed  again,  and  her  voice 
was  a  shade  softer,  as  she  said,  — 

"  0,  they  are  uncle  Simeon's  children.  He's  gone 
a-sogorin'.  They've  got  a  proper  pooty  little  one  in 
there.  You  shall  play  with  that  one." 

"  I  should  like  to,  but  I  shan't  have  much  time  to 
play.  I  must  help  you  all  the  time  I  can  get." 

"  What  are  you  larfin'  at,  Nabby  ?  "  growled  Mehita- 


394  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

blo.     "  You  act  like  a  fool.     You'll   scare   that  young 
one's  senses  out." 

"  Sho  !  I  guess  not,"  laughed  Nabby.  "  But  I  be- 
lieve she'll  kill  me  a-larfiu'.  Marm,  she  thinks  she's 
goin'  to  be  chief  cook  an'  bottle-washer,  an'  shan't  have 
time  to  play.  That  ain't  much  like  Sim's  young  ones  — 
is  it?" 

"  Ha,  ha !  no  ;  that's  true  for  ye,  Nabby.  Well,  she's 
a  real  Sharp,  that  one  is  ;  she  looks  like  our  kind  of 
folks.  There  ain't  a  bit  of  Loverin'  in  her,  or  Lentell 
either.  Nabby,  you  are  a  sight  like  my  folks.  Your 
father  was  a  nice  clever  man ;  but  he  hadn't  gumption 
enough  —  that's  all.  I  never 'd  orter  married  him.  0, 
hum  !  "  And  the  old  lady  swayed  her  body  back  and 
forth  in  bed,  where  she  sat  most  of  the  time,  with  the 
Bible  wrong  side  up,  mumbling  over  the  bits  of  texts  she 
had  heard  now  and  then,  or  spelling  out  with  great  diffi- 
culty a  few  verses. 

"  Where  is  my  father  ?  I  want  to  see  him." 
• "  Well,  you  won't  want  to  more  'n  once,  I  reckon. 
He's  in  there,  drunk.  He  works  in  the  forenoon,  and 
gits  drunk  by  dinner  time.  Ye'd  better  not  meddlb  with 
him  to-day,  but  wait  till  mornin'  when  he's  sober.  Wait, 
and  see  if  he'll  know  ye." 

It  seemed  a  great  while  to  wait ;  but  the  obedient 
child  cheerfully  submitted. 

When  Mr.  Trueman  informed  Hester  and  Martha  how 
he  had  left  their  darling,  they  were  truly  gratcfia. 

"  It  is  the  Lord's  doings,"  said  Hester.  "  Dear  child  ! 
I  hope  and  pray  that  the  time"  may  be  short,  for  her  sake 
as  well  as  ours.  How  we  love  her  !  " 

"  What  a  comfort  she  was  to  us  all  !  "   said  Martha. 


LOVE'S    GOLDEN    KEY.  395 

"  She  is  a  strange  child,  so  thoughtful  and  wise  beyond 
her  years,  and  yet  a  very  child  in  artless  simplicity. 
How  I  miss  her  I  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink  to-night,  I  do 
believe.  Don't  you  suppose  she  will  lie  awake  and  cry 
all  night  ?  " 

"  0,  no,  I  think  not,"  said  Hester  ;  "  she  is  a  young 
philosopher,  that  child  is.  She  will  cry  as  if  her  heart 
would  break,  say  her  prayers,  and  go  to  sleep." 

Hester's  well-poised  voice  trembled  as  she  commended 
their  darling  to  God  that  night. 

"  Martha,  I  am  growing  old,"  she  said,  sadly  ;  "I 
feel  it.  But  that  dear  child's  faith  has  prevailed.  It  was 
her  Christian  love  that  cast  out  fear ;  don't  you  see  it  ? 
She  said  they  would  love  her.  God  would  make  them ; 
and  he  has.  How  wonderfully  he  fulfils  all  his  promises 
to  those  who  trust  in  him.  '  According  to  your  faith 
be  it  unto  you.1 ' 


396  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 


CHAPTER     XXX IX. 

UNCLE  LEVI.  —  SAD  SCENE  AT  THE  SUPPER  TABLE.  —  THE 
NOBLE  WRECK. 

"  MARM,  supper's  ready,"  screamed  Abigail.  "  Come, 
pick  up  yer  crutches  and  begin  to  hobble." 

Fossie's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  the  poor  old  lady 
wended  her  way  slowly  and  painfully  to  the  table,  with 
Abigail's  help. 

"0,  how  lame  !"  she  thought;  "  poor  grandmother  ! 
I  will  pick  up  her  stitches,  and  read  to  her."  She  looked 
at  the  distorted  features,  the  dark  veins,  and  the  large 
cords  on  the  hands,  and  fairly  shuddered.  "  What  if  she 
should  be  a  witch  ?  How  did  Mr.  Trucman  know  they 
were  all  dead  ?  But  then,  if  she  was  a  witch,  she  would 
ride  to  the  table  on  a  broomstick,  when  she  was  so  lame." 
She  took  a  deep  breath,  and  began  to  watch  for  her  father. 
She  longed,  and  yet  she  feared  to  see  him.  A  tall,  lean 
man  entered  the  room,  and  without  word  or  sign  to  any 
one,  commenced  eating  voraciously.  Was  that  father  ? 
No,  he  was  younger  than  aunt  Abigail.  No,  that  wasn't 
the  ragged  man  she  used  to  see. 

"  Lcvi,"  said  Abigail,  "  this  is  Morgan's  child.  She 
that  was  born  when  he's  in  jail.  Why  don't  ye  look 
at  her  ?  " 

He  raised  his  sharp  gray  eyes  suddenly,  and  looked 
at  the  child.  Their  eyes  met.  Levi  started. 


SAD    SCENE    AT    THE    SUPPER    TABLE.  39T 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  is  that  the  baby  ?  She  looks  like 
Harmony,  some." 

"  What  is  he  sayin',  Nabby  ?"  said  grandmother,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Why,  he  says  she,"  pointing  with  her  knife,  "  looks 
like  Harmony." 

"  Levi,  you  talk  like  a  fool,"  was  the  reply.  "  She's 
a  Sharp,  has  got  the  Sharp  eyes,  an'  forrad,  an'  nose.  I 
tell  ye  she's  a  Sharp,  and  she  shall  have  my  red  cloak 
made  into  a  little  red  ridin'-hood,  like  Sim's  gal,  and  go 
to  meetin'  with  urn.  Nabby,  can't  ye  fix  it  to-night  ?  I 
wan't  her  to  look  smarter 'n  any  on  urn." 

"  0,  I'll  do  it  before  she  wants  it,"  said  Abigail,  who 
agreed  with  mother  in  her  ambition  about  the  child's 
looks.  "  We'll  make  urn  stare  —  won't  we,  marm  ?  I'll 
git  her  the  best  hat  I  can  find." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  and  the  old  lady  opened  her  mouth  very 
wide.  She  looked  more  like  a  witch  than  ever,  when  she 
brought  her  crutches  down  angrily,  and  said,  — 

"  Levi,  don't  you  let  me  hear  you  say  she  looks  like 
Harmony,  or  I'll  beat  ye  over  the  head." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  doing  it,"  was  the  curt  reply. 
"  I  just  want  you  to  remember  that  I  was  twenty-one 
long  ago.  I  don't  stand  crutches  now,  or  tongues,  and 
I  shouldn't  mind  going  into  the  army.  Five  or  six  hun- 
dred dollars  don't  grow  in  the  country.  I  could  sell  the 
stock,  you  know." 

"  0,  they  don't  love  each  other  one  bit,"  mused  the 
little  missionary.  "  I  wish  I  could  teach  them  to  love." 

"  There,  there,"  said  Abigail,  "  don't  mind  what  the 
oil  woman  Bays;  she's  a  child.  If  you  go,  I'll  go.  Ton 

such    co\vs    as    \\-<-\<-    ;•..!,  and    four   such    oxen,  and  two 


398  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

such  horses,  can't  be  found  every  day.  What  a  shame 
to  sell  urn  !  Sim's  gone  and  left  his  grist  of  young  ones 
for  us  to  look  arter.  What's  the  use  to  talk  ?  Jule  is 
slack." 

"  Julia  is  good  enough,"  said  Levi,  "  and  so  was  Har- 
mony ;  and  that  child  looks  like  her.  I  am  glad  she's 
come,  —  a  little  ray  of  light  you  see,  —  for  home  has  been 
a  Tophet ;  that's  all.  Abigail,  you  know  it.  It  is  work 
and  scold,  and  eat  and  sleep  :  that's  been  the  programme. 
I  hate  it.  I  had  as  lief  go  to  war,  and  shoot  somebody, 
as  to  be  shot  at  all  the  time,  arid  can't  shoot  back.  I 
wish  she  would  strike  me  once  ;  I'd  go."  lie  raised  his 
voice  to  a  high  pitch.  "  Marm,  I  tell  you  this  child 
looks  like  Harmony,  and  she  is  pretty.  Now  cane  me 
if  you  dare  !  " 

Fossie  covered  her  face  and  cringed,  expecting  to  hear 
the  blow,  the  crashing  of  dishes,  &c.  The  poor  strained 
hand  clinched  the  crutch,  and  the  gray  eyes,  sunken 
behind  the  dark  rims,  glared  at  Levi,  —  nothing  more,  — 
as  the  blue  lips  muttered,  — 

"  0,  hum  !  I'd  orter  expect  it ;  this  is  what  comes  of 
marryin'  third  cousins.  0,  hum  !  " 

"  Don't  be  scairt,  Fussy."  ("What  a  name  !  "  said 
Levi.)  "There  won't  be  any  bones  broken;  and  uncle 
Levi  likes  ye,  and  he'll  take  ye  to  see  the  '  grand  craven 
animals/  as  marm  read  it  the  other  day." 

"  What  is  it,  aunt  Abigail  ?  " 

"  0,  the  caravan.  There  is  monkeys  in  it.  Ever  see 
one  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  have  read  about  them.  I  brought  my 
books,  and  I'll  read  you  about  it  when  I  have  time." 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  heavy,  shuffling  step.      The 


SAD    SCENE    AT    THE    SUPPER    TABLE.  399 

poor  inebriate's  troubled  sleep  was  disturbed  by  the  loud 
talk.  He  caught  the  name  of  Harmony  now  and  then. 
How  it  startled  him  I  He  had  not  used  it,  nor  allowed 
others  to,  for  years..  He  raised  his  head,  brushed  back 
the  tangled  locks  of  rich  dark  hair,  and  listened. 

"  She  is  pretty,  and  she  looks  like  Harmony,"  he  heard 
Levi  say,  defiantly.  "  Now  cane  me  if  you  dare." 

He  started  up,  and  crawled  off  the  bed  nervously. 

"  Who've  they  got  there  ?  "  he  muttered,  with  an  oath. 
"  Who  looks  like  her  —  like  her?"  he  groaned.  "0, 
God,  she  wouldn't  know  me.  Why,  I  meant  to  forget 
her.  Curse  them  !  they've  brought  it  all  back  —  all 
back." 

He  stopped  in  the  doorway  which  opened  opposite 
Fostina.  He  leaned  weakly  against  the  door,  with  pale, 
parted  lips,  red,  wild  eyes,  tattered  garments,  and  matted 
locks.  How  haggard  he  looked  !  What  a  wreck  I  How 
like  a  noble  castle  in  ruins,  with  hingelcss  gates,  tum- 
bling walls,  and  broken  battlements  ! 

0,  what  a  noble  wreck  !  The  tall,  manly  form  was 
there  ;  the  pale,  white  forehead  was  there  ;  but  it  seemed 
as  if  the  honest,  loving,  manly  soul  had  been  banished 
from  the  noble  mansion  of  God's  own  making,  and  a  de- 
mon, half  defiant  and  half  afraid,  stood  fearfully  looking 
out  of  the  windows  of  the  soul,  abashed  at  those  strange, 
beautiful,  mournful  eyes,  which  rested  with  an  unutter- 
able yearning  look  upon  him.  He  reached  out  his  arms 
with  a  quick,  frantic  gesture,  then  drew  them  back 
fiercely,  arid,  smiting  them  on  his  broad  chest,  exclaimed 
vehemently,  — 

"  0  God  !  0  God  !  it  is  the  same  look.  Her  eyes, 
how  they  followed  mo  to  the  road  —  out  of  sight  —  yes, 


400  11ESTEK    STKOXG  S    LIFE    WORK. 

she  stood  in  the  door  and  looked."  Again  he  emote  the 
broad  chest,  madly.  "0  God,  what  a  look  that  was! 
How  it  haunted  mo  !  IIow  it  stood  between  me  and  the 
jug,  till  she  died  !  And  then  it  followed  me  —  followed 
me  day  and  night,  till  I  cursed  it,  and  I  never  saw  it 
more." 

This  was  said  with  a  shudder,  and  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  Never  any  more  ;  and  I  drank  and  drank  till  I  drowned 
my  misery,  and  got  revenge  ;  and  it  was  sweet."  He 
raised  his  voice.  "  You  told  me  to  drink,  old  woman. 
Have  you  got  enough  of  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  God  knows  I  have,"  was  the  low,  muttered 
reply. 

"  That  is  what  comes  of  your  ugly,  domineering,  self- 
ish disposition,"  muttered  Levi,  as  he  left  the  room. 

Poor,  frightened,  trembling  little  missionary.  Did  her 
heart  fail  and  her  faith  waver  for  a  moment,  as  she 
bent  lower  and  lower  in  her  seat,  saying,  — 

"  Dear  Jesus,  what  shall  1  do  ?   what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"Do  ye  think  ye  can  cure  him,  Fossic  ?  do  ye?" 
whispered  Abigail. 

She,  too,  was  pale  and  trembling.  There  was  some- 
thing awful  in  the  language,  tone,  and  manner  of  the 
fallen  man.  It  was  like  a  wail  of  despair,  or  a  prayei 
half  uttered,  or  a  muttered  curse.  She  could  not  read 
it.  She  had  not  seen  the  tears  nor  heard  the  prayers 
which  had  been  put  up  for  that  man  ;  knew  not  that  the 
Spirit  of  God  was  striving  in  the  dark,  dark  soul. 

"  I  can't  cure  him.  0,  no  !  I  can't,  but  God  can.  The 
prodigal  son  was  poorer  and  worse  than  he.  lie  ate 
with  the  swine ;  but  my  poor,  poor  father  has  good  nice 
food,  and  a  little  girl  to  love  him." 


SAD    SCENE    AT    THE    SUPPER    TABLE.  401 

Morgan  Lentell  took  a  step  nearer. 

"  Who  be  you  ?  "  he  gasped.  "  Who  be  you  ?  Her 
ghost  ?  " 

"  I  am  Mary  Fostina,  your  little  girl.  I  love  you,  and 
Jesus  loves  you.  I  have  come  to  tell  you  something 
beautiful  when  you  are  sober." 

"  Sober  ?  "  he  muttered.  "  Who  told  you  I  drank  ?  "  he 
said  with  an  oath,  which  shocked  Fostina.  "  Who  is 
Jesus  ? "  he  mused  ;  "  I  used  to  hear  about  him.  She 
used  to  tell  the  children  about  him.  But,  child,  he's 
done  loving  me  ;  don't  speak  of  him." 

"  There,  Morgan,  eat  yer  supper,"  said  Abigail,  with 
a  degree  of  pity  in  her  heart  she  had  not  folt  for  a  long 
time.  "  Eat ;  here  is  some  cold  victuals  :  you  like  it." 

"  Yes,  father,  sit  by  me  and  eat ;  for  I  am  your  little 
girl  —  your  baby  that  you  never  saw.  I  have  come  to 
live  with  you  a  long  time.  Aunt  Abigail  and  grand- 
mother say  that  I  may.  Ain't  they  good  ?  I  want  you 
to  love  them." 

He  looked  at  her  in  great  perplexity. 

"  Those  are  her  eyes,"  he  said,  with  an  oath.  "  Abi- 
gail, who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  is  your  own  child  —  she  that  was  a  baby 
when  Harmony  died." 

Abigail  used  to  listen  in  a  kind  of  bewilderment,  as 
little  Fossic  talked  of  her  hopes  and  plans.  "  What  a 
droll  little  thing  you  be,  Fussy  !  "  was  her  only  answer. 
Fossic  soon  learned  that  aunt  Abigail  did  not  mean  disap- 
probation by  that  term,  and  so  it  ceased  to  pain  her. 
The  dear  child  had  trials.  She  could  not  speak  of  those 
who  occupied  her  thoughts  so  often.  How  she  desired 
to  see  them,  to  hear  their  loving  words,  to  tell  them  all 
26 


402  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

her  thoughts,  to  lay  her  head  on  their  bosoms,  and  look 
into  their  dear,  sweet  faces.  In  vain  Abigail  made 
twisted  doughnuts  and  turnovers,  with  the  curious  crinkle 
round  the  edge,  with  the  light  crisp  crust,  or  bought  her 
sugar  hearts.  She  missed  the  love  which  had  seasoned 
everything  in  her  other  home.  So  she  waited,  and  labored, 
and  thought  of  the  fatted  calf,  the  ring,  the  new  hat,  and, 
above  all,  a  father  to  know  and  love.  She  smiled,  and 
played  with  the  children,  and  waited  hopefully  on  till  the 
end.  There  were  days  at  Mehitable  Sharp  LenteH's 
which  were  real  holidays  to  the  child-missionary  ;  da3T8 
when  the  married  daughters  of  the  family,  with  little 
boys  and  girls,  came  home  —  children  who  had  been 
taught  to  love  one  another,  and  respect  each  other's  rights. 
Little  Mary,  as  their  mothers  taught  them  to  call  their 
cousin,  was  a  favorite  among  them.  She  was  too  modest 
and  unassuming  to  excite  envy  in  hearts  fortified  as  theirs 
were  by  love.  And  then  her  good  will  was  a  sure  pass- 
port to  aunt  Abigail's  and  grandmother's  hearts.  It 
amused  them  very  much  to  hear  grandmother  call  her  a 
"  Sharp  young  one  "  —  her,  the  demure,  quiet,  thought- 
ful maiden,  so  affectionate  and  kind.  "  She  means  that 
she  is  like  her  family  ;  her  name  was  Sharp,"  their  moth- 
ers explained  to  them.  Uncle  Simeon's  wife  was  quite 
literary  ;  she  found  books  and  papers  in  her  part  of  the 
house.  But  the  child-missionary  denied  herself  the  privi- 
lege of  reading,  and  almost  of  eating  or  sleeping :  at 
least,  she  felt  willing  to,  when  she  could  in  any  way  pro- 
mote the  work  for  which  she  was  a  cheerful  exile  from 
the  home  and  friends  she  loved.  There  were  dark  days, 
cloudy  days,  stormy  days  for  her  —  days,  when  her  father 
would  not  permit  her  to  approach  him  ;  and  then  she 


UNCLE    LEVI.  403 

hovered  around  him,  watching  for  her  "  opportunity,"  as 
she  called  it.  Uncle  Levi  plucked  the  nicest  fruit  for 
Fossie,  listened,  with  his  eyes  closed  and  his  head  lean- 
ing on  the  back  of  his  chair,  to  her  artless  conversation 
about  God  and  heaven,  about  Christ  and  salvation,  about 
things  she  had  seen  and  heard  at  school  —  sad  things 
and  amusing  ones,  for  the  little,  wise,  old-fashioned  child 
had  a  fund  of  anecdotes.  She  always  heard  everything, 
and  never  forgot.  Sometimes,  when  she  went  to  the  vil- 
lage with  him,  or  about  his  work,  he  inquired  concerning 
Hester  and  the  Loverings,  arid  was  much  interested  in 
her  account  of  their  way  of  living  and  doing. 

"  What !  have  prayers  night  and  morning  ?  I  thought 
such  things  were  for  ministers,  or  men,  at  least." 

"  Why,  I  guess  not,"  was  the  reply.  "  Grandpa  is 
dead,  you  know,  and  the  altar  must  be  kept  up.  Why 
don't  you  have  an  altar,  uncle  Levi  ?  It  would  make  us 
all  better  and  happier."  She  waited  ;  he  seemed  uneasy. 
"  0,  I  suppose  you  had  rather  pray  to  God  alone  in  your 
room  ;  that  is  just  as  well,  I  guess.  That  is  the  way 
I  do." 

"  You  pray  ?  "  said  Levi,  looking  up  under  his  heavy, 
shaggy  eyebrows  ;  "  you  pray,  little  May-day  ?  "  He 
called  her  that  often  when  they  were  alone. 

•  "  Tell  me  what  you  mean,  uncle  Levi,  by  calling  me 
May-day.  Is  it  a  good  day  ?  " 

"  0,  I  mean  that  you  are  pleasant  and  lovely."  Levi 
felt  half  ashamed  that  he  had  spoken  words  which  his 
mother  iJ'.vays  called  "  weak  as  dish-water,"  until  the 
human  nature  in  his  soul  was  paralyzed  and  put  fast 
asleep. 

The  chill  had  aroused  his  slumbering  faculties,  and  he 


404  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

was  hungering  for  something  to  feed  upon  —  something 
he  had  not  found  in  his  home.  Yes,  he  was  hungering 
for  sympathy  —  for  something  human  to  love,  something 
to  live  for  besides  his  cows,  and  oxen,  and  horses.  They 
were  the  only  living  things  he  had  ever  loved  :  they  were 
like  old  friends,  but  now  they  did  not  satisfy  him.  His 
brother's  children  he  might  love,  but  he  feared  his  moth- 
er's derisive  laugh  —  Abigail's  sarcasm. 

"  Abigail  is  different,"  he  mused,  as  they  rode  along. 
"  Little  May-day,  what  shall  I  buy  you  at  the  store  ?  " 

"  Let  me  think,"  said  the  child  ;  "  some  maple  sugar, 
please.  No,  no,  uncle,  don't  buy  me  anything.  I  love 
you  well  enough  now.  Buy  aunt  Abigail  and  poor,  lame 
old  grandmother  something.  Aunt  Hester  says  little 
deeds  of  kindness,  little  words  of  love,  coax  out  the 
better  feelings,  and  kindle  the  flame  of  affection.  I  guess 
grandmother's  never  were  kindled." 

"  No,"  said  Levi,  bitterly,  "  she  never  had  any  affec- 
tions. She  fed  and  clothed  us,  as  I  take  care  of  my 
cows  and  horses,  only  not  so  kindly.  May-day,  you 
would  have  been  a  north-easter,  if  you  had  been  brought 
up  here." 

"  Should  I  ?  "  was  the  innocent  reply.  "  Don't  you 
love  your  mother,  uncle  Levi  ?  " 

He  looked  at  the  child  silently,  almost  sternly,  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  said,  "  Do  you  love  her,  or  your  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  love  her,  but  not  as  I  love  them  at  home.  I 
want  to  make  her  better,  but  I  don't  want  to  go  and  put 
my  arms  about  her  neck,  and  love  her  hard.  0,  I  can't 
love  them  enough  !  I  wish  you  would  go  and  see  them 
Borne  day." 

"  Well,  I  will,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "  I  will ;  and 
you  shall  go  and  see  them,  little  one.  It  is  too  bad !  " 


UNCLE    LEVI.  405 

"  Will  3^ou,  uncle  Levi  ?  IIow  happy  I  am  !  For 
when  I  stand  and  look  out  of  the  window  towards  there, 
I  wish  I  had  wings  like  a  bird,  so  that  I  could  go  ever  so 
often,  and  right  back  to  my  mission." 

"  Let's  see  ;  what  is  your  mission  ?  —  to  eat  turnovers 
and  sweetmeats  ?  "  he  said,  smiling  into  her  face. 

"You  are  very  pretty  when  you  smile,  uncle  Levi. 
Aunt  Hester  will  like  you,"  said  the  child.  "  But  don't 
you  remember  what  my  mission  is  ?  Why,  it  is  to  re- 
form my  poor  father.  I  feel  so,  without  any,  you  know. 
The  children  tease  me  about  it.  That  is  what  I  stay  here 
for  ;  and  I  like  you  and  aunt  Abigail  too.  I  am  going 
to  help  her  punch  the  liriksj  when  you  kill  the  hogs  ;  she 
says  I  may.  Kill  them  as  easy  as  you  can — won't  you, 
uncle  Levi  ?  " 

He  laughed,  placed  his  broad,  brown  hand  on  her  head, 
and  said,  in  a  voice  so  low  and  tender,  — 

"  Little  one,  you  are  not  like  us.  I  don't  understand 
it.  What  makes  the  difference  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  Grandmother  says  I  am 
like  her  Sharp  folks."  He  frowned. 

"  She  —  well,  it  isn't  true.  You  are  like  your  moth- 
er, child.  She  was  a  Christian — the  only  one  that  I  ever 
knew.  I  didn't  always  treat  her  well.  The  old  cock 
crows,  and  the  young  ones  learn.  But  I  remember  her. 
She  was  very  lovely  and  good."  There  were  tears  in 
those  sharp,  deep-set  eyes,  and  a  little  tremor  in  his 
voice,  as  he  said,  "  Mary,  we  were  not  brought  up 
right :  that  is  what  ails  us.  It  isn't  a  good  place  for 
a  child  like  you  to  live.  I  like  you,  but  I  want  you  to 
go  home.  Abigail  likes  you.  I  never  thought  she  could 
like  anything  before.  But  your  father  is  a  real  sot; 


406  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

there  isn't  any  help  for  him  ;  so  I  want  to  carry  you 
home  before  the  sweetness  is  turned  sour."  She  folded 
her  little  hands,  and  raised  those  large,  beautiful  eyes  to 
his,  mournfully,  as  she  said,  — 

"  I  promised  aunt  Hester  and  Martha  that  I  would 
certainly  bring  him,  and  I  must.  Please  let  me  stay ; 
only  let  me  go  with  you  to  see  them." 

"  Well,  have  it  your  own  way  ;  you  are  a  strange  little 
thing."  Those  were  happy  days  for  the  child,  when  she 
went  to  see  the  loved  ones. 

"  Marm  musn't  know  a  thing  about  it,"  Abigail  told 
Levi  and  Fossie.  "  It  is  lucky  she's  deaf."  Abigail 
indulged  her  youngest  brother  more  than  ever  since  the 
war.  The  querulous  old  lady  muttered  and  mumbled  her 
disapprobation,  and  read,  "  C-h-i-1-d-r-e-n,  o-b-c-y  y-o-u-r 
p-a-r-e-n-t-s  i-n  t-h-e  L-o-r-d !  0,  hum  !  I  nevcr'd  ortcr 
married  yer  father,  Nabby.  He  was  a  nice,  clever  man, 
but  he  hadn't  gumption,  and  he  was  my  third  cousin. 
Children  never  prosper  when  there's  blood  relation. 
There's  a  cuss  on  'em." 

"Fiddlesticks!"  said  Abigail,  aside;  "it's  your 
tongue  that  has  cussed  us,  and  allers  will,  fur's  I  see. 
I  wish  yer  loom  and  yer  wheel  had  been  sunk,  and  3-cr 
tongue  tied.  So  there  !  I'm  tired  on't."  Fossie  looked 
up,  with  a  frightened,  grieved  look. 

"  Aunt  Abigail,  did  my  grandmother  use  to  scold  so 
when  "  —she  was  about  to  say  "  when  my  mother  lived 
here  ?  "  She  stopped,  confused. 

"  When  what  ?  "  said  Abigail. 

"  When  she  was  young  and  well." 

"Yes,  and  worse.  She  was  always  at  it  —  work  and 
fret,  work  and  scold.  Father  never  had  a  minute's  peace 
in  his  life." 


A    NOBLE    WRECK.  407 

"  Didn't  he,  aunt  Abigail  ?  Well,  I  am  sorry,  for  she 
can't  ask  him  to  forgive  her,  now  he  is  in  heaven  ;  and 
she  can't  get  in  there,  for  I  guess  she  don't  love  God.'" 

"  Sho  !  "  said  Abigail;  "yes,  she  will.  Christ  died 
for  sinners.  We  shall  all  get  in  there  somehow.  I 
wish  I  was  there  now ;  for  if  Levi  goes  to  the  war,  I 
can't  live  —  that's  all."  Fossie  was  thinking  what  to 
say  to  Abigail :  she  saw  her  mistake. 

"  Will  my  father  go  to  heaven  as  he  is  ?  Will  he, 
aunt  Abigail  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know,  child  ?  " 

"  Well,  would  he  be  happy  there  without  rum.?  " 

"No,  no,  child.  Run  and  get  yer  turnover:  it's 
mince,  with  raisins  in  it." 

"  Yes,  aunt,  I  will  in  a  minute.  It  is  nice.  You  are 
so  kind  to  me,  and  I  love  you  ever  so  much  !  But  you 
can't  go  to  heaven  unless  you  are  a  Christian  —  no  one 
can.  We  mnst  repent  and  believe,  —  the  Bible  says  so, 
—  or  we  can't  go  to  heaven.  Won't  you  read  it,  aunt 
Abigail  ?  —  won't  you  ?  I  want  you  to  go  to  heaven." 

"  I'll  think  on't.  There,  run  and  see  what  yer  granny 
wants.  What  a  fool  I  am  to  humor  that  young  one  so  !  " 
mused  Abigail.  "I  can't  fret  at  her — -I  can't;  and  it 
may  be  true  —  it  may.  Harm's  doctrine  don't  make  any 
on  us  perfect.  Pshaw  !  I  won't  be  led  round  by  a  young 
one  —  and  that  Harmon37's,  too  —  I  won't !  "  she  said, 
spitefully. 

But  she  was  led,  nevertheless.  Yes,  "  a  little  child 
shall  lead  them."  Mary  Fostina's  "  opportunity  "  came 
at  last.  God  sent  a  sickness  upon  the  father ;  it  was 
severe  while  it  lasted,  and  left  him  very  weak.  The 
lit  lie  girl  hovered  near  him,  watched  over  him,  combed 


408  1LESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

out  the  dark,  rich  locks,  and  petted  them  as  Harmony 
used  to.  They  were  yet  beautiful.  She  washed  the 
soiled  face  and  hands  when  he  was  stronger,  and  caressed 
his  hollow  cheek,  which  yet  bore  traces  of  manly  beauty. 
She  kissed  the  pale,  high  forehead,  and  said,  softly,  — 

"  Mother  loves  you,  father.  She  is  waiting  for  you  in 
heaven.  Jesus  loves  you.  You  thought  he  didn't ;  but 
Re  does.  0,  he  loved  you,  and  died  to  save  you.  Aunt 
Hester  loves  you,  and  Winnie,  and  Wallace,  and  Sun- 
shine love  you.  That  is  what  we  call  Elida.  And  papa, 
I  mean  to  call  you  papa,  now  that  you  haven't  drank  any 
rum  this  week.  Yes,  your  little  Mary  loves  you,  papa. 
I  feel  so  badly  when  they  call  you  sot  and  drunkard ! 
0,  I  feel  so  badly,  when  you  were  such  a  beautiful  man  I 
Auut  Hester  says  so.  They  all  say  so.  0,  papa!  papal 
you  promised  mamma — my  darling  mamma  !  —  when  she 
was  dying,  that  you  wouldn't  drink  rum  any  more  ;  and 
she  will  be  disappointed  if  you  don't  leave  off.  Papa, 
won't  you  promise  your  little  girl  that  you  will  never, 
never  drink  it  any  more  ?  " 

She  fell  upon  her  knees,  and,  with  clasped  hands, 
prayed,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  — 

"  0  God,  help  him  to  promise  !  0  Jesus,  save  him  ! 
save  him  !  and  let  me  have  my  father  to  love."  Abigail, 
hearing  the  child's  pleading  voice,  stepped  to  the  door 
and  peeped  in.  The  sight  affected  her.  It  was  as  if  the 
child  had  been  inspired  by  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  was  a 
solemn,  sacred  sight.  "Will  you  promise,  papa?"  she 
said,  looking  with  a  half  doubtful,  half  hopeful  look ; 
"  will  you  ?  Here  is  the  very  letter  you  sent  her  ;  and 
aunt  Hester  says  she  believed  you.  Say,  papa,  will  you 
promise  ?  Don't  speak  till  you  can."  Then  she  told 


A    NOBLE    WUECK.  409 

him,  more  calmly,  her  little  plan,  —  how  she  was  to  lead 
him  to  her  home,  when  he  was  all  well  and  cured  of 
drinking.  "  And  we  shall  all  be  so  happy  !  "  she  said. 
Morgan  Lentell  was  weeping ;  it  was  long  since  he  had 
wept :  but  he  was  very  calm. 

"  Mary,  I  dare  not  promise.  I  have  a  demon  in  here, 
which  clamors  day  and  night  for  '  rum!  ruin  !  '  'Tis  hell 
on  earth.  I  can't  escape  it."  Abigail  withdrew  to  weep 
alone  ;  she  was  ashamed  of  tears. 

"  0,  but,  papa,  you  have  promised  in  this  letter.  Hear 
me  read  it — hear  me."  She  read,  pointing  with  her 
finger.  lie  listened  and  groaned. 

"  0,  I  dare  not  promise.  God  knows  I  would  like  to 
reform,  but  I  can't,  I  can't ;  it  is  too  late." 

"  Dear  papa,  if  God  knows  you  want  to  reform,  you 
can  ;  for  if  you  want  to,  he  will  help  you.  Winnie  has 
wept  for  you ;  I  heard  her  say  she  had  wet  her  pillow 
weeping  for  you,  and  prayed  for  you  ;  we  all  have. 
Won't  you  promise  to  try?  0,  you  must."  He  gazed 
long,  and  almost  tenderly,  into  the  pale,  tearful  face. 

"  Harmony's  face,"  he  thought.  "  It  must  be.  The 
eyes  are  hers  ;  yes,  it  is  the  same  look,  tender,  yearning, 
and  mournful.  I  promise!"  he  whispered,  hoarsely; 
"I  promise,  Ilarmy  —  I  promise;  God  help  me."  In  a 
moment  the  child  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  poured  out 
her  heart  in  praise  to  God.  The  sobs  of  the  sick  man 
startled  her.  She  said,  "  Amen,"  abruptly,  and  arose  to 
quiet  him. 

"  It  is  done,"  she  said  ;  "  it  is  done.  Now  go  to  sleep, 
papa  — :  dear  papa.  My  mother  loved  you.  God  loves 
you.  Jesus  loves  you.  You  will  repent,  and  believe, 
and  be  saved.  There,  go  to  sleep  ;  it  is  done  ;  1  haven't 
lost  my  opportunity,  as  Winnie  did ;  I  went  to  find  it." 


410 


HESTER    STRONG'S    LIKE    WORK. 


Dear  child  !  She  was  a  little  heroine  at  home,  doing 
God's  work  bravely  and  well.  How  those  two  hearts 
grew  together,  as  she  hung  with  a  mother's  tender  fond- 
ness around  the  returning  prodigal !  Reader,  you  would 
have  wondered  had  you  seen  them  walking  to  the  small 
house  near  the  swamp,  day  by  day,  and  entering  the 
dark,  damp,  dismal  room,  hand  in  hand,  and  coming  forth 
with  calm,  peaceful  faces,  only  that  you  know  this  was 
the  child's  chosen  place  for  an  altar.  Yes,  there  they 
went  to  pray.  Little  Mary's  altar  it  was.  She  prayed, 
and  it  was  there  she  produced  the  pledge  Hester  had 
written  for  her  to  sign,  and  said,  — 

"  Papa,  it  was  in  this  corner  I  was  born.  Here  moth- 
er died  ;  the  bed  stood  here,  you  say.  Sign  it  right 
here,  dear  papa ;  perhaps  God  will  let  her  see  you  sign 
it."  He  took  the  pencil,  and  wrote,  with  a  trembling 
hand,  — 

"  I  will  leave  it  off,  God  helping  me." 


ELIDA'S    VISIT.  4H 


CHAPTER     XL. 

ELIDA'S  VISIT.  —  THE  SOLDIER'S  FUNERAL,  OR  THE  LAUREL 
WREATH. 

LEVI  brought  a  letter  one  day,  directed  to  Mary  F. 
Lentell.  It  read  thus  :  — 

"  MY  DARLING  SISTER  :  What  you  have  told  me  about 
aunt  Abigail,  and  the  rest  of  them,  makes  me  want  to 
come  and  see  them.  Uncle  Levi  I  know,  and  like  already. 
Please  ask  aunt  if  I  may  come  and  stay  a  week  or  two. 
I  won't  make  her  a  bit  of  trouble ;  and  if  she  has 
dresses  to  fix  or  make,  I  will  do  my  best;  for  Mrs.  P. 
trusts  me  to  do  the  best  of  work.  They  will  tell  me  I 
have  what  grandmother  calls  '  gumption.'  I  think  she 
will  take  me  to  be  a  Sharp.  So,  little  sister,  coax  them 
to  let  me  come.  Your  affectionate  sister, 

"ELIDA  LENTELL." 

"  I  can't  have  none  of  yer  stuck-up  folks  here,"  said 
Abigail.  "Dress-maker!  Miss  Dress-maker !  You  don't 
want  her  —  do  you,  Fussy  ?  Aunt  Abigail  can  git  yer 
dresses  cut  in  the  village,  and  make  um  herself."  Levi 
looked  eagerly  at  the  child.  Would  she  dare  be  truth- 
ful ?  lie  saw  the  color  go  and  come  ;  tears  glistened  in 
the  mournful  eyes,  the  lip  trembled  for  a  moment,  and 
then,  with  a  brave  effort,  she  spoke  quite  calmly  :  — 


412  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Aunt  Abigail,  I  love  my  sister  very  much,  and  she 
isn't  stuck  up,  I  guess ;  she  isn't  as  big  as  you  are ;  and 
she  makes  nice  dresses.  And  she  is  so  funny,  she 
makes  us  all  laugh  !  So  I  wish  you  would  let  her  come 
—  please,  do.  I  should  like  it  better  than  ever  so 
many  turnovers  and  things."  She  threw  her  arms 
around  Abigail's  neck,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again. 
"  Aunt  Abigail,  say  yes." 

"  There,  there,"  said  Abigail,  as  she  shrank  away, 
half  ashamed  of  being  caressed,  it  was  so  new  —  "  there, 
Fussy,  don't  eat  me  up."  She  smiled.  "  You're  a  queer 
little  thing.  Ask  uncle  Levi  if  he'll  go  after  her.  May 
be  it  '11  make  him  more  contented.  Granny  '11  fret,  un- 
less I  can  make  her  think  she's  a  Sharp,  from  the  crown 
of  her  head  to  the  sole  of  her  foot." 

"  You  are  the  darlingest  aunt  Abigail  I  ever  had,"  said 
Fostina,  patting  her  on  the  cheek.  "  Uncle  Levi  will  go, 
I  know.  I  see  it  in  his  eyes."  She  went  and  leaned 
confidingly  against  her  uncle's  shoulder,  and  looked  up 
into  his  face.  "Won't  you,  uncle  Levi?" 

"  I  guess  not,"  he  said,"  smiling.  "  Dress-makers  are 
bad  things  to  have  round  ;  but  aunt  Abigail  can  employ 
one,  though,"  he  said,  archly. 

"  Why,  no,  uncle  Levi ;  dress-makers  are  not  bad,  I 
know.  My  sister  isn't.  You  have  seen  her  —  isn't  she 
funny  ?  She  made  you  laugh.  But  she  is  real  good, 
though.  Won't  you  go  for  her,  and  let  me  go  with  you  ? 
I  will  give  you  my  new  book  that  Winnie  gave  me,  that 
has  the  elephant  and  the  monkeys  in  it." 

"  0,  that  will  be  fine  !  "  said  Levi.  "  I'll  go.  When 
shall  we  start  ?  " 

"  Better  go  now,"  said  Abigail ;   "  it's  pleasant,  and 


ELIDA'S    VISIT.  413 

the  pears  '11  be  gone  afore  long."     Levi  took  the  letter, 
and  read  it. 

"  It  is  a  neat  thing/'  said  he.  "  Abigail,  if  you  and 
I  had  more  learning,  it  wouldn't  come  amiss." 

"  Sho  !  "  said  Abigail;  "if  I'd  been  to  school  as 
much  as  you  have,  I'd  be  satisfied." 

"  Xabby,  who's  that  letter  from?  Simeon?  I'm 
afeared  the  rebs  '11  kill  him.  0,  hum  !  I'd  ortcr  knowed 
better  'n  to  let  him  gone.  Jule  '11  have  the  pinshin,  I 
B'pose.  I  allcrs  had  yer  father's.  He  fit  at  Concord 
an'  Lexiu'ton,  an'  helped  take  Burgwine.  It  allers 
made  him  shudder,  an'  laugh,  too,  when  he  told  how  they 
went  in  one  solid  flanax,  right  at  the  pint  o'  the  bag- 
onet,  an'  took  him  with  flyin'  colors.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Didn't  they  bring  him  down  a  peg  ?  I  allers  like  to  see 
yer  stuck-up  folks  brought  down.  They  hikl  him  pris- 
oner o'  war — didn't  they,  Nabby  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  it,"  said  Abigail.  "  You 
burnt  up  the  hist'ry  of  it,  that  father  bought,  'cause  the 
boys  wanted  to  read  it." 

"  Get  your  information  out  of  the  ashes,"  muttered 
Levi,  starting  up,  and  striding  out  to  the  barn. 

"  Nabby,  who  did  ye  say  that  letter's  from  ?  " 

"I  didn't  say,"  said  Abigail,  impatiently.  "It  is 
fruia  one  of  Morgan's  young  ones.  She  wants  to  come 
and  see  if  3'ou  think  she's  got  the  Sharp  gumption. 
She  is  goin'  to  do  our  dress-rnakin'.  Levi  says  she's  a 
smart  one,"  screamed  Abigail. 

"Looks  like  the  Sharps,  did  you  say,  Nabby?  Ha, 
ha !  How  mad  the  Loveriu's  ill  be.  Good  for  um. 
Let  her  come,  Nabby.  Likel}7  's  not  she  can  learn  to 
spin  an'  weave." 


414  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Not  in  tliis  house,"  muttered  Abigail.  "  I  -wish  yer 
loom  was  burnt." 

"  I'll  be  ready  in  just  forty  minutes,"  said  Elida,  glee- 
fully, when  Lcvi  and  Fossie  arrived  ;  "  for  I  am  a  Sharp, 
you  see,  and  can  do  things  quickly." 

"  Dress  as  plainly  as  possible,  darling.  Grandmother 
Lentell  has  a  perfect  horror  of  what  she  calls  '  stuck-up ' 
folks,"  said  Hester,  who  could  do  little  but  look  at  and 
hold  her  baby.  Martha  was  busy  getting  supper.  Hes- 
ter was  learning  to  lean  upon  her  a  little  now  ;  for  she 
could  no  longer  deny  that  she  felt  the  growing  infirmi- 
ties of  old  age. 

"  You  will  think  me  childish,  Mr.  Lentell,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  am.  You  see  I  have  had  a  pretty  large  family 
for  a  maiden  lady,  and  I  love  them  all,  foolishly,  I  sup- 
pose. You  can  have  no  idea  how  I  miss  this  little  pet," 
she  said,  folding  her  in  a  loving  embrace  ;  "  she  is  the 
youngest.  I  miss  the  boys,  too.  Wallace  is  first  lieu- 
tenant, and  he  so  young !  They  call  him  very  brave. 
He  has  never  had  so  much  as  a  scratch.  Albert  Gray, 
Elida's  intended,  has  been  wounded  slightly  ;  his  sister's 
husband  has  been  sick  :  we  have  felt  anxious  about  him. 
George  is  in  a  fair  way  to  get  an  epaulet,  as  he  promised 
to.  lie  is  rising,  and  very  popular.  Perhaps  you  don't 
know  my  boys,  though.  1  was  speaking  of  George 
Levering,  Fossie's  cousin.  I  wish  the  war  was  over  ;  it 
is  destroying  thousands  of  lives,  and  souls,  too,  I  fear; 
for  it  is,  and  must  be,  demoralizing."  When  Fossie  and 
Hester  were  alone,  she  said,  "  When  think  I  shall  see  my 
darling  leading  home  the  prodigal  ?  I  have  got  the  ring 
all  ready." 

"  Well,"  said  the  child-missionary,  rising  up  from  her 


ELIDA'S    VISIT.  415 

nestling-place,  "  I  think  I  will  corne  in  the  spring.  You 
see,  1  have  promised  to  help  aunt  Abigail  chop  the  meat 
and  punch  the  links  with  the  new  puncher ;  and  after 
that  it  will  be  too  cold  to  walk  home,  and  they  won't  like 
it  if  I  don't  stay.  And  now  that  I  can  come  and  see 
you,  and  Elida  is  going  to  stay  a  little  while,  and  father 
has  signed,  it  won't  be  so  hard."  She  breathed  a  deep 
breath,  and  waited  for  a  reply. 

"  Why,  my  precious  darling,  auntie  wants  you  very 
much  ;  and  if  your  poor  papa  could  come  and  live  with 
us,  we  could  nurse  him  up,  and  he  would  be  less  likely 
to  take  to  drinking  again.  Here  there  would  be  less 
temptation.  Mr.  Trucman  would  find  some  employment 
for  him.  Perhaps  uncle  Levi  will  bring  you  ;  it  would 
be  a  long  walk." 

"  0,  he  can't  drink  again,  auntie,  now  he's  signed. 
And  then  you  wouldn't  see  us  coming,  and  meet  us  with 
the  ring." 

"  0,  yes,  I  should.  You  could  wait  in  the  road  till  I 
came.  Wallace  and  Winnie  are  going  to  buy  him  an 
entire  new  suit  of  clothes  —  boots  and  all.  But,  darling, 
you  must  say,  stuff  the  '  sausages  ; '  '  links  '  isn't  proper  ; 
and  '  sausage-filler,'  instead  of  '  puncher.'  That  is  the 
old-fashioned  way." 

"  Well,  1  will  tell  aunt  Abigail  ;  she  don't  know  it." 

"No,  dear,  you  had  better  not;  she  wouldn't  like  to 
have  yon."  Hester  had  a  long  talk  with  Levi,  who  very 
willingly  acceded  to  her  wishes,  and  promised  to  bring 
them  in  a  few  weeks. 

"We  shall  miss  her,"  ho  said,  with  a  grim  smile; 
"but  she  is  better  here.  I  shan't  speak  of  this  till  the 
time  comes.  They  would  be  willing  to  lose  Morgan  ; 


416  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

for  since  be  stopped  drinking,  he  can't  do  a  chore  of 
work." 

"  0,  well,  he  will  when  he  has  rested  and  recruited 
a  while  ;  and  then  he  can  find  employment  here,  or  go 
back,  just  as  you  and  he  can  agree,"  said  Hester.  Elida 
was  the  same  fun-loving  child  as  ever,  only  a  shade  more 
thoughtful.  She  met  aunt  Abigail  as  if  she  had  known 
her  for  years. 

"  Now  tell  me  how  to  look  like  the  Sharps,  so  that 
grandmother  and  I  can  hitch  our  horses  together,  as  the 
old  saying  is,"  she  said,  in  her  queer  way.  Abigail 
laughed. 

"  You'd  better  look  out  for  the  crutches,  if  she  thinks 
you  look  like  Uester  or  the  Loveriu's." 

"  0,  but  I  will  look  like  the  Sharps.  Haven't  you  got 
a  picture  of  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  Xo  ;  that's  the  only  one,"  said  Abigail,  pointing  at 
the  bed ;  "  and  she  don't  look  as  she  did,  I  can  tell  you. 
Between  workin'  and  frettin',  she's  ready  to  blow  away. 
Better  take  yer  knittin'  when  she's  lookin',  and  knit  like 
a  horse." 

"  Do  your  horses  knit  ?  "  was  the  jocose  reply. 
"  Then  I'll  buy  one  when  I  earn  enough,  for  I  certainly 
wear  out  stockings  very  fast." 

"  What  is  she  savin',  Nabby  ?  I  wish  ye  wouldn't 
mince  so.  I  want  to  hear  once  in  a  while.  0,  hum  ! 
that's  what  comes  of  marryin'  third  cousins." 

"  She  wants  some  knittin',"  screamed  Abigail.  "  She's 
goin'  to  arn  enough  to  buy  a  horse,  she  says.  She's  got 
the  right  kind  of  grit  —  ain't  she,  marm  ?  and  looks  as 
you  did  when  you  's  a  gal  —  don't  she  ?  " 

"  Where's  my  best  specks,  Nabby  ?     I  want  to  look 


ELTDA'S    VISIT.  41 7 

at  her.  I've  forgot  how  I  looked.  You  say  she  looks 
like  me.  Ha,  ha !  Horace  said  I  was  handsomer  'u 
Hester  once."  Elida  drew  down  her  face,  and,  seating 
herself  in  tbe  range  of  the  specs,  commenced  knitting. 
She  dared  not  raise  her  eyes  ;  she  was  full  of  suppressed 
mirth,  which  she  had  to  restrain  with  all  her  might. 

"  She's  a  Sharp,"  said  the  old  lady,  with  great  satis- 
faction. "  She  looks  like  me,  you  say.  Well,  I  guess 
she  does.  I  wish  my  leg  was  well.  I'd  larn  her  to 
spin  an'  weavfc.  She  could  have  my  loom  an'  am  a  horse 
mighty  quick.  Ha,  ha !  Good  !  she  ain't  none  o'  yer 
stuck-ups.  Nabby,  git  her  some  of  yer  doughnuts,  and 
let  her  stay.  There's  victuals  enough.  She's  got  the 
Sharp  nose/'  she  muttered,  feeling  of  her  own.  This 
was  too  much.  Elida  commenced  coughing  and  choking  ; 
she  rushed  out  of  the  house,  out  of  sight,  and  laughed 
till  the  tears  ran.  "  Git  her  some  of  my  'oarhound, 
Nabby.  I  used  to  cough  when  I  was  her  age  ;  it  cured 
me." 

"  There,  uncle  Lcvi,  you've  found  me,"  said  Elida, 
lung-lung  so  that  she  could  hardly  speak.  "  Don't  tell 
them  ;  I  couldn't  help  laughing,  it  is  so  funny  !  My 
poor  nose  —  0,  my  poor  nose!  Grandmother  says  it's 
the  real  Sharp,  and  1  look  like  her.  You  see  1  can't 
help  laughing;  I  never  could.  I've  got  the  bump,  I 
guess.  Don't  tell  them."  The  laugh  was  contagious. 
Lcvi  laughed.  Abigail  came  out  with  the  candy,  which 
the  old  lady  always  kept  on  hand  as  an  infallible  remedy 
for  coughs. 

"  Here,  take  it,"  said   Abigail,  "  and   toll   her  you're 
T.      She'd  eane  ye  if  she  knew  what  set  ye  to  cough- 
in'.     Don't  your  nose  ache  '(  '' 
27 


418  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  I  am  foolish  to  laugh  so,"  was  the  reply.  "  Poor 
old  lady  !  I  arn  glad  she  liked  my  pug  nose  ;  but  it 
struck  me  as  decidedly  droll  to  hear  her  call  it  the  Sharp 
nose."  Morgan  Lentell  did  not  take  to  the  merry- 
hearted  girl  as  he  did  to  her  more  quiet,  thoughtful  sis- 
ter. He  had  an  indistinct  recollection  of  a  pouting  little 
maiden,  who  stamped  her  tiny  foot,  and  said,  — 

"  Go  away,  naughty  man.  I  won't  be  your  little  girl. 
I  b'long  here,  and  my  name  is  Sunshine,  it  is."  But 
she  made  herself  useful  in  many  ways  ;  worked  button- 
holes for  Levi,  and  starched  arid  crirnped  grandmother's 
caps  very  nicely,  who,  true  to  her  early  habits,  was 
scrupulously  neat.  Abigail  finally  permitted  her  to  fix 
over  her  black  silk  dress,  "  so  as  to  have  it  ready  to  wear 
if  Simeon  should  be  killed." 

"  Lide's  got  the  real  Sharp  geno,"  said  grandmother, 
as  she  turned  the  clean  crimped  cap  over  and  over,  with 
childish  satisfaction.  "  None  of  the  Loverin'  blood  in 
her,  I  tell  ye,  Nabby  ;  she's  a  Sharp." 

"  She  takes  arter  her  aunt  Nabby  — don't  she,  inarm  ?  " 
said  Abigail,  with  a  sly  wink  at  Elida. 

"  You,  Nabby  ?  "  she  said,  evasively  —  "  yes,  I  s'pose 
so.  You  took  arter  me,  when  you  's  a  young  one,  under 
foot  all  the  time.  Ha,  ha ! "  Grandmother's  laughs 
seemed  not  to  come  from  the  heart.  They  were  hollow, 
joyless,  soulless,  and  made  one  feel  like  weeping. 

"  I  will  come  every  year  and  crimp  your  caps,  if  you 
want  me  to,"  said  Elida,  "  for  I  like  to  stay  here." 

"  She's  goin'  to  be  married  when  the  war  is  over,"  s;iM 
Abigail,  "  and  then  she  won't  think  of  granny's  caps  or 
Nabby's  doughnuts." 

"  Yes,  I  shall   think    of  crirnped  caps   and   aunt   Abi- 


ELIDA'S    VISIT.  419 

gail's  doughnuts,  and  cheese,  too,  for  they  are  the  best 
I  ever  ate." 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Abigail,  well  pleased  with  the  com- 
pliment. "  Pshaw  !  I  can't  cook  much.  I  wonder 
where  Fussy  and  Morgan  are.  That  child  makes  me 
think  of  an  old  hen  scratching  for  a  dozen  chickens. 
She  follows  her  father,  and  watches  him  every  minute. 
He  don't  seem  easy  if  she  is  out  of  sight  a  moment.  I 
caught  her  mending  his  pants  the  other  day.  Her  little 
white  fingers  warn't  much  bigger  'n  the  darn-needle  she 
was  usin'.  She  thinks  he  never  can  drink  again,  because 
he's  signed.  Poor  thing  !  she  hain't  lived  as  long  as  I 
have."  Elida  felt  reproved  by  her  little  sister's  devo- 
tion to  their  father. 

"  I  will  go  and  find  them,"  she  said.  "  Where  do  you 
think  they  are  ?  " 

"  Down  to  the  small  house,  as  likely  as  anywhere." 
She  had  shrunk  from  going  there  ;  but  she  went,  think- 
ing,— 

"  I  live  for  self,  Winnie  and  Fossie  for  others.  Wal- 
lace is  fighting  for  home  and  country.  I  wish  I  had  a 
mission."  She  listened  at  the  door,  and  heard  a  child's 
voice  pleading  at  the  throne  of  grace.  She  opened  it 
softly,  crept  to  the  side  of  the  two  kneeling  figures,  and 
knelt ;  and  when  the  low  "  amen "  was  uttered,  she 
wound  her  arm  around  Fossie's  neck,  and  wept,  say- 
ing,— 

"Little  sister,  your  work  is  not  yet  done.  Teach  me 
to  be  a  Christian." 

"  0,  I  am  not  a  Christian,"  said  the  child.  "  I  am 
Christ's  little  one,  father  says.  Aunt  Hester  and  they 
at  hum*1  can  t«-a«-li  you.  The  Holy  Spirit  will  tearh  y»u. 
Don't  cry,  Eli«l.»." 


420  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

.  "  0,  I  must.  I  am  a  sinful  girl.  I  laugh  and  sing, 
and  leave  the  hard  work  for  you,  little  sister.7' 

"  Well,  it  is  my  work,  Elida.  God  will  give  you 
some  pretty  soon,  it  may  be,  and  then  you  will  do  it,  I 
know."  Little  prophet.  0,  how  little  she  knew  the 
significance  of  those  prophetic  words  !  They  three  sat 
there  in  the  dark,  damp,  dismal  room,  and  talked  of  the 
dear  sainted  mother  in  heaven,  of  aunt  Hester's  home, 
of  grandpa's  bedroom,  where  the  prodigal  was  to  sleep, 
of  the  ring,  the  clothes,  and  the  fatted  calf. 

"  Dear  father,"  said  Elida,  "  I  know  you  will  love  me 
the  least  of  all  your  children,  I  am  so  unlike  the  rest. 
But  I  am  going  to  be  good  to  you.  I  wish  I  was  differ- 
ent. What  makes  me  so  '  chipper,'  as  grandmother  calls 
it  ?  and  it  is  the  right  name.  I  want  you  to  love  me  a 
little  —  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  quick  reply,  "  I  will ;  and  I  will  tell 
you  some  time  what  makes  you  so  different.  There  is 
Abigail's  horn  :  it  can't  be  tea-time." 

"  Fussy  Sharp,  whcre've  ye  been  to  ?  "  said  the  queru- 
lous old  lady.  "  Nabby  can't  light  my  pipe  worth  a 
cent." 

"  Marm  is  uncommonly  pious  to-day,"  said  Abigail. 
"  She  has  read  the  Bible  ever  since  you  went  out. 
There,  she  is  at  it  again.  Listen.  She  boasts  of  not 
goin'  to  school,  and  I  used  to  think  it  was  smart ;  but 
I've  done  with  that.  I  wish  I  knew  something." 

"  In  S-a-l-e-m,  Salum,  a-l-s-o,  also,  is  his  t-a-b-e-r-n-a-c-1-e, 
ta-barn'a-cle.  Nabby,  who  is  he  a  talkin'  about  there  ? 
I've  been  to  Salum  ;  I've  never  seen  any  ta-&ani-a-cle  — 
have  you?"  Abigail  laughed;  Levi  laughed.  "That 
will  do  to  go  with  your  '  ilunux  '  (that's  what  .she  calls 


ELIDA'S    VISIT.  421 

phalanx],  and  the  other  day  she  read  about  the  '  bell-e- 
ge'rents  ' — belligerents  she  meant." 

"  Xabby,  what's  he  sayin'  ?  Why  donjt  ye  tell  me 
whose"  —  here  she  spelled  it  again,  and  pronounced 
it  —  "  ta-6arn/a-cle  it  is  ?  " 

"  Marm,"  said  Abigail,  "we're  laughin'  at  your  larn- 
in',  that  ye  got  in  six  weeks.  Better  read  to  yerself." 

"  Ye  be  —  are  ye  ?  "  said  the  old  lady  in  a  rage.  "  I 
never  brung  ye  up  to  treat  yer  betters  in  that  way. 
Didn't  I  spin  and  weave,  and  buy  and  sell  ?  and  warn't 
my  family  as  well  off  as  if  I'd  spent  my  life  in  a  book- 
cover,  like  a  worm  ?  0,  hum  !  I  never  'd  orter  married 
him  :  he  was  my  third  cousin,"  she  muttered. 

"  There  are  uncle  Edward  and  aunt  Hester,"  said 
Elida,  turning  pale  ;  for  she  saw  the  deep  grief  in  their 
faces,  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts  to  be  strong,  that  tho 
stricken  heart  might  lean  on  them.  "  Aunt  Abigail," 
she  said,  clutching  her  nervously  by  the  arm,  "  I  know 
some  one  is  dead." 

"  0,  may  be  not,"  was  the  reply.  "  Don't  tell  marm 
who  'tis,  or  we  shall  have  a  scene."  Elida  stood  trem- 
bling, with  her  cold  hands  pressed  firmly  over  the  white, 
white  face.  Abigail  opened  the  door.  Ilester  and  tho 
doctor  saw  at  a  glance  that  their  errand  was  compre- 
hended, perhaps  exaggerated. 

"  Come  in,  for  God's  sake,"  said  Abigail,  "  if  ye  can 
help  her.  She's  dying,  I  do  believe." 

"  0,  no,"  said  the  doctor  ;  "  she  will  be  relieved  when 
I  tell  her  that  Albert  is  only  wounded,  and  wants  her  to 
corne  and  nurse  him." 

"  Nurse    him ! "     she    said,    tho    hands    unclasping. 


422  HESTEE    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  How  ?  or  when  ?  0  God,  I  thank 
thee  that  he  is  not  killed,  and  I  may  see  him  again." 

"Be  calm,  darling,  be  calm,"  said  Hester.  ''Lucy- 
has  a  mightier  grief  than  yours  is  yet.  Albert,  we 
think,  will  certainly  recover,  with  you  to  nurse  and 
uncle  Edward  to  look  after  him.  He  will  go  with  you." 
They  did  not  tell  her  then  that  he  was  crippled  for  life  ; 
they  felt  that  she  could  not  bear  it.  "But  alas!  we 
cannot  raise  the  dead.  Poor  Frank !  poor  Emma !  and 
poor,  dear,  stricken  Lucy  !  " 

"  Then  George  is  dead,"  said  Elida,  as  she  commenced 
to  weep.  "  0  Lucy  !  Lucy  !  What  if —  0,  I  could  not 
bear  it !  I  have  been  so  hopeful  and  giddy,  when  they 
have  been  facing  such  perils,  enduring  such  hardships 
for  me.  When  can  we  go,  uncle  Edward  ?  0,  I  wish  I 
could  fly  !  Where  is  Wallace  ?  " 

"  On  his  way  home  with  dear  George's  remains,"  was 
the  reply,  "  and  very  well." 

"  Nabby,  who  be  they  ? "  said  grandmother,  impa- 
tiently ;  "  and  what's  to  pay  ?  Is  Simeon  dead —  hey  ? 
Do  tell  me." 

"  Elida's  beau  has  got  shot  in  the  leg,  and  her  cousin  is 
dead,  and  these  are  her  friends  come  for  her  to  go  home." 

"  0,  hum  !  "  was  the  reply  ;  "  I'm  glad  'taint  Simeon. 
I  wouldn't  take  on  so,  if  I's  Lida  ;  why,  I  didn't  even 
cry  when  your  father  died.  She  can't  go  —  can  she  ? 
She  hain't  got  your  dress  done." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  Abigail  ;  "  here,  come  in  this  way," 
opening  the  parlor  door.  "  Let  me  get  ye  a  cup  of  tea 
afore  ye  start." 

Hester  gratefully  accepted  the  offer.  This  had  been  a 
hard,  trying  day.  Yes,  she  would  be  glad  of  a  cup  of 


ELIDA'S    VISIT.  423 

tea.  She  felt  weak  and  weary.  She  must  find  Fossio 
and  her  father.  She  must  see  Levi  if  possible.  Wal- 
lace would  remain  at  home  on  furlough.  If  they  could 
come  home  before  he  returned,  what  a  comfort !  Hester 
prepared  Elida  very  gently  for  the  worst,  and  yet  she 
almost  fainted  when  she  knew  that  the  poor  limb  was 
gone  forever,  and  that  henceforth  the  tall,  manly  form 
would  be  shorn  of  its  graceful  beauty  and  strength. 

"  If  I  could  bear  it  for  him  !  "  she  said  ;  "  if  it  could 
be  me !  0,  Albert !  Albert !  your  sacrifice  has  been 
great  —  greater  to  you,  perhaps,  than  the  loss  of  life, 
but  to  me  infinitely  less.  Auntie,  I  am  glad  I  learned 
dress-making,"  she  said,  with  a  half  smile.  "  God  is 
giving  me  something  to  do.  I  have  lived  for  self  so 
far." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  "  God  is  indeed  giving  you  a 
work  to  do  ;  and  I  feel  confident  you  will  do  it  faith- 
fully. Dear  child,  I  want  you  to  trust  in  Jesus.  Give 
your  heart  to  him,  and  all  will  be  well." 

"  Auntie,  I  want  to  be  a  Christian.  I  see  the  beauty 
of  true  religion  more  and  more.  There  is  an  entire  lack 
of  Christian  principle  in  grandmother  Lcntell's  family. 
It  pained  me  to  see  the  poor,  decrepit  old  lady  treated 
so  disrespectfully.  She  is  their  mother,  and  so  aged! 
They  laugh  at  her  ignorance,  when,  it  may  be,  she  had 
no  one  to  insist  on  her  going  to  school.  I  verily  believe 
I  should  have  been  as  ignorant  as  she,  had  I  lived  in  her 
day,  and  followed  my  own  inclinations.  You  had  hard 
work  to  get  me  started  up  the  hill  of  science  —  didn't  you, 
auntie  ?  I  thank  you  for  taking  the  trouble,  though  I 
thought  it  hard  at  the  time.  Auntie,  I  see  it  now.  I 
wanted  to  live  for  fun — that  was  all." 


424  HESTER    STRONG'S   LIFE    WORK. 

"  I  pity  your  grandmother,"  said  Hester.  She  did 
not  tell  the  young  girl  how  much  she  hud  to  blame  her 
for.  "  I  pity  her;  she  had  no  one  to  cultivate  her  affec- 
tions or  educate  her.  On  the  contrary,  her  parents  bo- 
fore  her  gloried  in  their  ignorance,  and  hired  her  to  stay 
from  school.  For  her  want  of  mental  culture  she  is  not 
responsible ;  but,  Elida,  she  is  responsible  for  her  want 
of  Christian  culture.  If  she  were  an  earnest,  trusting 
Christian,  she  would  challenge  respect  from  all  reputa- 
ble persons." 

"  0,  how  long  the  time  seems  !  "  said  Elida,  walking 
up  and  down  the  room.  "  How  can  I  wait?  He  may 
be  worse  —  dying  even.  I  may  never  see  him  alive." 

"I  feel  that  he  will  live,"  said  Hester,  calmly ;  "  I 
think  he  will.  Only  think  how  slowly  the  hours  must  be 
dragging  along  at  uncle  Frank's  !  No  hope  for  them  — 
nothing  to  do  but  to  wait  and  weep.  Think  of  them  in 
their  desolation,  dear  !  it  will  help  you.  Think  of  pool 
Lucy  !  nothing  left  for  her  but  the  cold,  cold  clay.  No 
word,  or  look,  or  sound  —  nothing  but  the  mournful 
privilege  of  burying  the  loved  one,  and  weeping  over 
the  honored  dead.  He  was  brave,  noble,  and  generous, 
and  has  left  a  name ;  was  lovely,  and  they  loved  him  ; 
and  when  the  sorely-smitten  hearts  have  sobbed  out  the 
mighty  anguish,  and  gained  relief  in  that  way,  then  the 
love  and  the  noble  needs  of  daring  will  come  to  comfort 
and  cheer  them  in  their  darkened  way.  Pleasant  memo- 
ries, bequeathed  to  us  by  the  dying,  are  better  far  than 
wealth.  You,  dear  child,  have  a  sad,  sweet  meeting  to 
look  forward  to  ;  so  hope  on  to  the  end." 

The  village  bells  tolled  long  and  mournfully  on  the 
day  when  Wallace  arrived  with  the  dust  of  his  friend 


THE    SOLDIER'S    FUNERAL.  425 

and  brother  in  a  common  cause.  There  was  a  laurel 
wreath  on  the  bosom  of  the  dead,  and  epaulets  on  the 
shoulders,  and  glory  such  as  a  king  might  covet  en- 
shrouding the  soldier's  clay.  The  aged  pastor,  who  had 
officiated  very  acceptabty  in  the  absence  of  the  young 
man  who  had  taken  his  place  at  the  altar,  followed  the 
little  procession,  with  bowed  head,  to  the  stricken  father's 
house.  It  was  he  that  dedicated  him  to  God  at  the  bap- 
tismal font ;  it  was  fit  and  proper  that  he  should  say, 
"  Ashes  to  ashes,  and  dust  to  dust/'  when  they  buried 
him. 

Reader,  you  understand  it  all.  0,  you  know  how  the 
pulses  stop,  how  the  soul  seems  to  shrink  and  shiver 
when  the  lid  is  closed,  and  how  the  cold  earth,  as  it  rat- 
tles on  the  coffin,  grates  upon  every  nerve.  Instinctive- 
ly you  wish  to  shield  the  dear  one.  In  your  anguish, 
you  forget  that  the  casket  is  empty.  The  soul  is  gone, 
but  yet  the  dust  is  precious. 

"  I  thank  my  God,"  murmured  the  weeping  mother, 
"that  we  could  bury  him,  and  keep  his  hallowed  dust 
from  sacrilege.  Isn't  it  a  comfort  to  you,  dear  Lucy  ?  " 

"  It  ought  to  be,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  can't,  0,  I  can't 
feel  it  yet.  Dear  Mrs.  Levering,  let  me  go  to  mother. 
0,  let  me  go.  I  shall  distress  you.  I  never  thought  he 
would  die.  I'll  come  when  I  feel  stronger.  0,  shall  I 
ever  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  you  will  grow  calm  and  peaceful  some 
time.  This  is  your  first  great  sorrow,  and  it  is  hard  to 
bear ;  I  know  it.  If  you  could  have  been  married,  it 
would  not  seem  so  sad.  We  love  you  as  a  daughter, 
and  for  dear  George's  sake,  love  us  —  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  love  you   all,   and  George   could  not  have  been 


426  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOKIv. 

dearer  than  he  was.  But  in  the  selfishness  of  my  great 
grief,  I  wish  we  could  have  been  joined  in  the  holy  bonds 
of  marriage.  I  could  speak  of  him  so  much  more  freely, 
and  feel  that  I  had  a  right  to  speak  his  praises,  and  talk 
about  his  love."  Reader,  these  scenes  have  been  so 
familiar  in  the  last  few  years,  that  I  need  not  dwell  upon 
them.  And  then  they  followed  each  other  so  rapidly! 

There  came  a  sorrow — you  remember  it — so  much  deep- 
er and  broader  than  any  which  had  preceded  it,  that  we, 
for  the  moment,  forgot  all  other  griefs.  It  was  not  the 
family  circle  alone  that  had  been  broken  ;  nay,  verily,  a 
nation's  chief  had  fallen  ;  at  such  a  time,  too,  and  in  such  a 
way  !  Arid  then  the  mourning  came  so  very  near  to  the 
rejoicing !  It  was  as  if  death  had  entered  the  banquet- 
hall  at  the  hour  of  feasting,  and  smitten,  with  cruel  hate 
and  malice  never  matched  before,  the  honored  master, 
and  left  the  happy  guests  dumb  with  grief.  0,  who  cau 
picture  the  scene  ! 

One  day  there  came  news  —  "  Richmond  has  fallen  !  " 
How  we  had  looked,  and  longed,  and  waited  for  that 
news  !  It  meant  to  us  peace,  instead  of  war — deav  ones 
at  home  again  ;  it  meant  everything  desirable.  It  was  a 
day  which  would  emancipate  our  noble,  self-denying1,  im- 
prisoned soldiers  from  a  doom  than  which  there  never 
was  anything  more  terrible  ;  and  God  grant  there  never 
may  be  a  place  inhabited  by  men  so  full  of  woe  and  ter- 
ror !  Famine  and  death,  in  its  most  hideous  form,  went 
hand  in  hand ;  literally,  it  was  a  place  of  skeletons.  0 
God  of  justice,  is  there  a  place  for  such  men  as  those 
who  gloated  and  gloried  in  the  hunger  and  thirst,  in  the 
blood  and  tears,  of  helpless  men,  mocking  even  the  agony 
of  such  a  death  —  is  there  a  place  for  such  men  and  such 
women  to  repent  ? 


THE    LAUREL    WREATH.  42T 

Thou,  God,  knowcst.  Well,  we  thought  our  calamities 
were  over;  freedom  had  triumphed  over  oppression  — 
right  over  wrong.  Was  it  strange  that  we  were  almost 
intoxicated  with  joy  ?  Was  it  strange  that  the  very 
church  bells  danced  and  made  music  to  the  nation's 
heart,  as  it  beat  exultant,  and  said,  "  Hurrah  "  ?  Even 
the  deadly  weapons  of  war,  the  cruel  instruments  of 
death,  were  forced  to  cease  their  work  of  destruction, 
and  make  melody  !  The  nation's  heart  was  full :  it 
could  not  be  expressed ;  and  so  the  cannon  roared,  the 
drums  beat,  the  bells  rang,  and  men  said,  "  Hurrah  !  " 
children  shouted,  "  Hurrah  !  " 

Even  the  mourning  ones  —  they  whose  beloved  lay 
mouldering  on  the  enemy's  soil  —  smiled  brightly,  and 
forgot  their  sorrows  ;  and,  arnid  the  joy  and  exultation, 
devout  thanks  went  up  to  God,  the  Giver  of  it  all. 

It  was  only  a  little  while,  you  know,  almost  before 
the  noise  of  sudden  mirth  had  been  hushed  into  quiet 
thankfulness,  that  the  stunning  blow  fell  upon  us,  and 
the  great,  honest,  loving  heart,  upon  which  we  had  come 
to  lean  with  a  child's  confiding  love,  lay  motionless  in 
death.  Yes,  God  had  raised  up  for  us,  in  the  hour  of  our 
extremity,  an  honest  man.  He  had  been  like  "the  shadow 
of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land."  We  rested  in  his 
shadow  ;  it  was  a  pleasant  shade,  and  we  loved  it ;  not 
blindly,  for  we  had  tried  it,  and  it  had  not  been  found 
wanting.  And  they  buried  him,  too  —  our  Lincoln,  the 
nation's  hero,  an  able,  honest,  truthful,  temperate  man. 
It  was  a  nation's  funeral,  and  the  tears  were  honest  tears 
of  sorrow  and  regret.  But,  after  all,  we  did  not  fully 
realize  the  magnitude  of  our  loss.  Our  grief  would  have 
been  despair,  perchance,  if  we  could  have  seen  the  future, 


428  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

as  it  came  surging  on,  freighted  with  the  most  tremen- 
dous interests  to  us  and  the  world. 

Yes,  we  should  have  been  paralyzed  with  fear  and 
consternation,  could  we  have  seen  the  future,  and  real- 
ized how  unskilful,  unsteady,  and  utterly  unreliable,  was 
the  hand  which  held  our  nation's  destiny. 


CALL    ON    TUE    DIFFERENT    FAMILIES.  429 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

OUR  LAST  CALL  ON  THE  DIFFERENT  FAMILIES  IN  OUR  WORLD. 
—  HARMONY'S  DYING  WISH  ACCOMPLISHED,  HER  FAITH  RE- 
WARDED, OR  THE  CONCLUSION  OF  THE  WHOLE  MATTER. 

THE  war  is  over,  of  course  you  know  ;  or  at  least  the 
noise  of  battle  and  the  call  to  arms  have  ceased.  We 
hear  no  more  about  drafted  men,  and  high  bounties,  or 
victories  and  defeats.  Mr.  Trueman  has  not  been  idle. 
He  has  discharged  the  duties  of  collector  faithfully  at 
homo,  and  acted  as  paymaster  in  the  army  of  the  West 
with  great  acceptability,  with  the  rank  of  major.  Hon- 
est, self-denying  worth  has  been  rewarded.  His  business 
at  home  has  not  suffered.  Walter  has  learned  to  talk 
straight  way  about,  long  ago,  and,  with  mother's  and 
sister's  help,  he  has  attended  to  home  trade  successfully. 
Could  you  look  in  upon  the  family  circle,  now  that  they 
have  been  reunited,  you  would  thank  God,  with  us,  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  united,  happy  family,  who 
"  love  God  and  keep  his  commandments,"  "  in  honor 
preferring  one  another."  And  you  would  see,  also,  that 
second  marriages,  if  sensibly  formed,  are  pleasant  and 
profitable  to  all  concerned.  An  own  mother,  be  sho  who 
she  may,  could  not  comfort  and  console  Lucy  in  her  deep 
alilirti.ui  brUtT  than  the  step-mother;  and- Lucy  clings 
upon  her  as  a  daughter  !>lu>uU.  Mr.  Frank 
Lo\  ding's  family  have  bcdi  cli.i.  tened  by  their  ailikliun  ; 


430  IIESTEK    STRONG'S    LIFE    WOHK. 

drawn  nearer  together,  if  possible,  since  they  laid  their 
first-born  away  in  the  silence  of  death.  A  new  cord  is 
drawing  their  thoughts  upward,  and  uniting  them  to  God, 
"  who  doeth  all  things  well."  The  Loverings,  generally, 
are  enjoying  as  much  happiness  and  prosperity  as  is 
common  to  the  lot  of  man.  They  are  reaping  the  benefits 
of  an  early  Christian  training,  and  cultivated  minds  and 
hearts.  Dr.  Edward  has  an  extensive  practice,  and  is 
doing  much  good.  Mr.  Giles  is  Mr.  Giles  no  longer,  only 
in  name.  He  has  been  with  Him  "  who  is  meek  and 
lowly  of  heart,"  and  learned  of  him.  Old  habits  stick 
to  him,  he  says  ;  but  he  is  fighting  the  good  fight,  and 
will  finally  triumph.  Ann  is  a  revised  edition  of  her  for- 
mer self;  happier  than  we  supposed  she  ever  could  be. 
Christian  love  works  wonders,  imperfect  as  it  is  in  the 
human  heart.  It  was  the  children's  mission  to  teach  Ann 
to  love,  first  themselves,  and  through  that  human  love 
she  may  yet  learn  to  forgive,  and  ask  forgiveness  and 
wisdom  of  "  Him  who  giveth  liberally,  and  upbraideth 
not."  Elevia  seems  not  a  day  older  than  she  was  when 
she  went  home  to  die,  as  she  and  we  supposed.  Tier 
early  dream  of  returned  affection  and  a  happy  home  is 
realized.  The  Wileys  are  Wileys  yet ;  God  pity  them  ! 
They  too,  are  reaping  the  reward  of  their  doings.  Their 
daughter,  whom  they  loved,  it  is  true,  with  a  sordid  love, 
which  is  born  of  earth,  has  disappointed  them  sorely. 
They  taught  her  to  be  selfish  and  self-seeking ;  and  so, 
when,  in  the  progress  of  the  war  (after  she  had  recovered 
from  her  mortification  and  chagrin  at  failing  to  win  How- 
ard Trueman.),  the  fair  maidens  of  the  loyal  North  wrote 
patriotic  letters  to  the  soldier  boys,  Envena  cast  in  her 
lot  also.  She  was  deceived  by  an  empty  title,  a  g\iy 


CALL    ON    TUE    DIFFERENT    FAMILIES.  431 

exterior,  and  caught  at  a  hook  which  appeared  to  be 
golden,  but  it  was  only  sounding  brass.  The  fast  young 
man  came  to  see  her.  The  father  said  he  was  too  fast, 
altogether  too  fast.  "  But  he  looks  well ;  he  makes  a 
show."  He  was  a  captain,  and  might  be  general. 

"  As  likely  as  not  he  will  be  general,"  said  the  doting 
mother.  "  Hold  on  to  him,  Venie,  and  see." 

"  I  shall  be  likely  to,"  said  the  daughter.  "  Mrs.  Gen- 
eral Cowell ;  it  sounds  well.  Won't  they  envy  me  ?  Mam- 
ina,  I  shall  be  married  in  rose-colored  silk,  with  white 
lace  looped  up  over  it  with  orange  blossoms  and  gerani- 
ums, and  nothing  but  a  japonica  in  my  hair.  Aunt  Ann 
may  go  ;  I  shall  be  rich  enough  without  her  paltry  for- 
tune. I  wonder  which  of  the  children  will  get  it." 

"  My  daughter,  you  mustn't  look  ahead  too  far,"  said 
the  proud,  happy  mother  ;  "  hold  on/ and  wait." 

Had  they  known  Captain  Cowell,  they  would  have  been 
certain  he  would  not  wait.  There  was  property  enough 
to  tempt  a  man  with  an  empty  purse,  an  empty  heart,  and 
an  empty  title  which  did  not  pay  ;  for  he  assumed  it  with- 
out Uncle  Sam's  consent.  He  came  often.  "  Officers 
could  get  leave  of  absence,"  he  said  ;  and  then  he  loved 
her  so.  He  might  die  in  battle,  —  he  might,  —  brave 
captains  were  often  shot  in  battle,  —  and  then  she  could 
inherit  none  of  his  property,  or  glory,  or  pension,  not 
even  his  name.  And  so  one  day,  without  the  consent  of 
parents,  the  rose-colored  silk,  the  white  lace,  or  even  the 
japonica,  they  were  married  privately  ;  and  then,  in  spite 
of  parental  frowns,  the  bride  and  bridegroom  had  such  a 
honeymoon  as  is  seldom  seen.  It  was  more  than  bright, 
it  was  brilliant  ;  it  was  more  than  joyous,  it  was  jubilant. 
They  rode,  they  walked,  they  feasted.  In  the  chuivh  they 


432  HESTER   STRONG'S    LIFE   WORK. 

smiled,  and  looked  into  each  other's  faces  and  smiled,  and 
crept  closer  and  closer  to  each  other  ;  and  the  people 
smiled  —  a  half  mournful,  pitying  smile.  But  the  end 
came,  the  bubble  burst.  The  counterfeit  was  discovered 
when  too  late.  Self-seeking  ended  in  abasement. 

I  intended  to  tell  you,  at  some  length,  that  Howard 
graduated  from  the  Theological  Seminary  with  honor  ; 
paid  a  visit  to  the  soldier  boys,  and  labored  for  them 
three  months  ;  came  home,  obtained  a  very  desirable  set- 
tlement in  a  pleasant,  thriving  village,  and  married  our 
favorite,  Winnie  Lentell,  the  successful  teacher,  who,  in 
spite  of  many  obstacles,  was  greatly  beloved  by  her 
scholars,  as  well  as  numerous  personal  friends.  But  my 
book  is  getting  too  large,  they  tell  me  ;  and  then  the 
wedding  was  a  calm,  thoughtful,  grave  wedding;  they 
realized  what  they  were  doing,  but  were  happy,  neverthe- 
less, calmly,  sensibly  happy.  And  now  they  have  been 
married  some  years,  but  their  tones  are  not  less  ten- 
der, nor  their  smiles  less  sweet.  Envena  is  not  envied 
by  any  one  to-day  ;  they  pity  her,  and  none  more  than 
the  gentle,  loving  Winnie,  as  she  folds  her  birdie  boy  to 
her  mother  bosom,  and  caresses  the  sweet  head  nestling, 
there,  or  goes  quietly  into  Howard's  study,  to  see  if . 
the  minister  is  grappling  with  some  mighty  thought,  or 
whether  he  has  mastered  his  theme,  and  waits  for  her  to 
listen  to  the  result,  with  the  satisfaction  of  a  loving  heart 
in  the  success  of  the  beloved  one.  They  are  happy, 
very  :  why  should  they  not  be  ?  They  live  for  others, 
and  not  for  self  alone  ;  for  eternity,  and  not  for  time  only. 
God  bless  them  and  their  baby  boy.  Its  name  is  Geor- 
gie.  Winnie's  heart  has  been  disciplined  and  tried,  until, 
Howard  says,  there  is  nothing  left  but  the  pure  gold  ;  and 


CALL  ON  THE  DIFFERENT  FAMILIES.        433 

she  is  the  most  contented  and  happy  little  wife  and  mother 
in  the  land. 

"Howard/'  she  says,  "is  so  generous,  noble,  and 
strong,  that  I  am  satisfied.  God  has  cleared  up  the  clouds 
that  hung-  over  my  childhood,  and  I  ought  to  love  him, 
and  I  will  praise  him  while  1  live." 

Poor  Envena  !  she  is  sadder  and  paler  now.  The  little 
innocent  one  at  her  bosom  calls  up  no  pleasant  emotions, 
no  happy  smiles  ;  nothing  but  vain  regret.  She  is  not  a 
general's  wife  ;  0,  no  ;  she  knows  not  that  she  is  a  wife 
at  all.  Her  husband  has  not  been  heard  from,  though  she 
has  sought  for  him  with  the  energy  of  despair.  No  such 
name  appeared  among  the  captains  of  the  regiment  in- 
which  he  served  ;  but  a  man  answering  to  his  description 
was  counted  among  the  deserters  of  our  army.  Only 
this  they  knew :  that  bill  after  bill  came  in  to  Mr.  Wiley 
on  his  daughter's  account — the  price  of  her  few  weeks 
of  joyous  revelry  during  the  honeymoon.  They  paid 
them,  in  silent  amazement,  and  thought  to  hush  the  mat- 
ter up.  And  now,  as  the  months  roll  on,  and  the  disap- 
pointment takes  deeper  root  in  their  hearts,  they  speak 
of  their  daughter's  bereavement,  and  say  that  her  hus- 
band "  the  captain,"  died  for  his  country  in  a  Southern 
prison.  But  they  can  get  no  clew  to  him  ;  and  there  is 
no  state  aid  for  her,  or  the  fatherless  little  girl  in  her 
arms.  0  God  !  help  and  bless  the  little  one,  and  bring 
it  into  a  better  life  ! 

Mr.  Stillman  is  moving  along  at  a  slow  pace  —  nothing 
better,  but  rather  worse.  Mrs.  Stillman  is  going  on  in 
the  right  way,  keeping  boarders  for  a  livelihood.  J;irk, 
poor,  misguided,  ruined  Jack,  died  on  the  battle-firld, 
honorably,  she  thinks.  Well,  let  her  think  so  ;  give  her 
28 


43JL  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

this  little  comfort.  It  would  do  no  good  to  enlighten 
her  ;  but  his  comrades  know  that  he  was  shot  in  a  drunken 
fray.  Poor  Jack  !  you  might  have  been  a  great,  good, 
noble  man,  with  a  different  training. 

Clara,  once  the  belle  of  the  village,  is  sitting  quietly 
in  a  comfortable  easy-chair,  reading  a  little,  working  a 
little,  or  resting  a  little,  as  the  case  may  be.  She  is 
beautiful  yet,  though  the  roses  and  the  healthful  round- 
ness have  departed  from  her  cheek.  She  is  an  invalid, 
and  always  will  be,  until  the  mortal  shall  have  put  on 
immortality  in  the  better  life.  The  beauty  which  she 
now  wears  is  the  beauty  of  holiness  ;  the  light  in  her 
eye  is  the  light  of  eternal  love  ;  the  peace  of  God  is 
resting  upon  her ;  and  she,  too,  is  satisfied,  or  will  be  when 
she  shall  awake  in  his  likeness,  and  behold  him  as  he  is. 

"  I  thank  God,"  she  says  daily,  "  that  I  am  what  I 
am  —  a  feeble,  suffering  invalid  ;  and  not  a  child  of  sorrow 
sold  unto  sin,  steeped  in  pollution,  as  my  companion 
and  playmate,  the  beautiful,  the  queenly,  but  fallen  Re- 
gena  Steele  has  become.  0  Regena,  Regena  !  would 
that  I  could  snatch  you  like  a  brand  from  the  burning, 
and  save  you  from  the  wrath  of  an  offended  God  !  "  she 
said  often  ;  until  one  day  an  enormous  trunk  came  to  the 
village  depot,  containing  the  cast  off  finery  of  poor,  mis- 
guided, lost  Regena  Steele,  and  also  a  written  account 
of  her  journey  from  the  boarding-house  to  her  "  elegant 
city  home  "  prison,  her  desertion  and  despair. 

"  My  pride  triumphed/'  she  wrote,  "  and  I,  in  my 
turn,  became  the  destroyer,  the  betrayer,  of  innocence. 
But  my  reign  is  over.  Ere  this  reaches  you  I  shall  have 
gone  to  sleep,  never  more  to  wake.  There  is  no  here- 
after —  none.  I  am  glad.  I  could  not  meet  the  just  and 


CALL    ON    THE    DIFFERENT    FAMILIES.  435 

holy  God  the  Bible  speaks  of — T  couldn't.  But  it  is 
well  enough  to  believe  in  him  while  we  live,  I  wish  I 
had.  Mother,  had  you  sent  me  to  meeting,  and  taught 
me  the  religion  of  the  Bible,  I  should  have  been  happier 
in  this  life,  and  useful  to  my  fellow-men,  instead  of  what 
I  am  and  have  been.  But  it  is  no  matter  now  ;  my 
wrongs  are  all  avenged.  The  wretch  who  made  me  what 
I  am  died,  no  matter  how.  I  am  weary  and  sick  of  life  — 
of  self;  and,  now  that  I  can  endure  it  no  longer,  I,  too, 
G,J  to  rest  in  the  bosom  of  mother  earth.  Fare- 
well. 0,  I  am  longing  for  rest.  I  hold  that  in  my 
hand  that  will  give  it  to  me.  Farewell  forevermore." 

Mrs.  Stillman  and  Clara  enjoy  much  in  spite  of  adverse 
circumstances.  Onr  Father  in  heaven  pity  and  comfort 
them.  Let  us  cross  the  street  and  enter  the  house  where 
the  first  Mrs.  Gray  fell  a  charred  and  blackened  vic- 
tim to  Mr.  Stillman  and  the  rum  he  sold  for  gain, 
which  was  cursed  of  Heaven,  and  proved  a  curse  to 
him.  The  house  is  changed  since  that  terrible  tragedy. 
How  changed  it  is,  and  for  the  better  !  There  is  a  step- 
mother in  it,  too.  So  you  see,  reader,  that  the  hap- 
piness of  a  family  depends  on  whether  it  is  composed  of 
true  men  and  women,  and  obedient  children,  rather  than 
upon  anything  else  —  don't  you  sec  it  ?  Step-mothers 
are  blessings,  inestimable  blessings,  when  the  own  mother 
is  gone,  to  return  no  more,  if  love,  purity,  and  fidel- 
ity prevail  in  the  family  circle  ;  and  there  can  be  no 
happiness  where  they  do  not,  be  it  own  mother  or  step- 
mother that  sits  at  the  head  of  the  table,  presiding 
over  all. 

Mrs.  Cray,  the  second,  was  a  rare  jewel;  and  the 
children  "arose  and  called  her  blessed;  her  husband 


436  HESTER    STROl'G'S    LIFE    WORK. 

also  praised  her."  She  wan  a  good,  judicious,  own 
mother  to  Henry  Herbert,  who  is  now  settled  on  his 
father's  homestead  at  the  West.  Hattie  is  very  happy, 
only  that  she  misses  home  friends.  They  think  of  com- 
ing East,  now  that  Elida  and  Albert  cannot  go  to  them, 
as  they  at  first  intended.  Their  purposes  are  broken 
off.  And  she  was  a  good  mother  to  her  husband's  chil- 
dren, too,  and  a  tender,  loving  mother  to  little  Ella 
Gray,  the  youngest  pet.  There  was  no  room  for  envy  in 
her  motherly  heart.  All  honor  to  the  mother  of  them 
all.  The  lame  boy,  who  had  lost  bis  good  right  leg  in 
his  country's  service,  and  his  happy  little  Sunshine,  call 
her  blessed.  Theirs  was  a  peculiar  wedding.  There 
was  much  sad  tenderness  mixed  and  mingled  in  the 
heart-felt  congratulations  of  friends,  it  was  so  different 
from  what  they  expected  before  the  war !  Ou  account 
of  Albert's  feeble,  almost  helpless  state,  the  return  of 
the  prodigal  was  delayed  until  spring.  The  little  mis- 
sionary was  content ;  she  was  teaching  them  to  love. 
Her  work  there  was  not  done. 

Lottie  and  her  husband,  the  young  pastor  of  the  vil- 
lage church,  call  Mrs.  Gray  blessed,  as  well  as  Ilattie 
arid  Henry  Herbert.  Little  pet  will  lisp  it  soon  ;  and 
Mr.  Gray,  the  elder,  is  the  most  blessed  of  them  all  in 
the  possession  of  such  a  wife.  She  is  the  planner  of  all 
their  happy  schemes,  the  sharer  of  all  their  joys,  and  the 
bearer  of  all  their  sorrows.  And  Hester,  the  strong, 
the  noble,  the  generous,  the  loving  Hester,  seemed  to  be 
the  grandmother  of  them  all.  How  they  loved  and  ven- 
erated her!  And  aunt  Martha  —  the  gentle,  care-taking, 
loving  Martha  —  was  the  household  aunt,  you  see  ;  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Gray's  aunt,  Henry's  and  Hattie's,  Albert's 


CALL    ON    THE    DIFFEBENT    FAMILIES.  43T 

and  Elida's,  Lottie's  and  the  minister's,  Howard's  and 
Winnie's  aunt,  I  mean.  But  to  Fossie  and  Fossie's 
father  she  was  more,  a  great  deal  more,  than  aunt. 
Hers  was  a  mother's  love  for  them.  0,  let  me  tell  you 
that  the  fatted  calf  was  killed  and  eaten  some  time  since, 
but  not  until  Wallace  and  Elida  came  with  their  precious 
hero  soldier,  crowned  a  martyr  to  freedom.  The  little 
missionary  spoke  a  prophecy  when  she  said,  — 

"  God  will  give  you  something  to  do,  sister,  and  you 
will  do  it ;  I  know  you  will."  Hester  spoke  truly  when 
she  said,  "  God  is  preparing  a  life  work  for  you,  and  I 
feel  sure  you  will  do  it  faithfully."  Hers  was  just  the 
disposition  to  cheer  the  wounded  hero,  and  make  him 
forget  his  loss.  It  was  Hester  that  gave  them  a  deed  of 
half  the  old  Manlie  mansion,  which  was  kept  in  good 
repair,  and  seemed  not  to  grow  old  any  faster  than  its 
mistress. 

It  was  Martha,  the  aunt  of  all  of  them,  and  Mrs.  Gray, 
the  mother  of  them  all,  that  fitted  it  up,  with  a  little 
store  in  one  end,  and  everything  nice  and  cosy,  so  that 
the  children  could  be  happy.  "  Albert  must  have  some- 
thing to  do,"  they  said,  "  or  he  will  miss  the  .strength 
and  freedom  of  other  days." 

And  so  the  noise  and  smoke  of  war  rolled  away,  and 
tlic  sun  shone  in  the  Manlie  house  clearer  and  brighter 
than  ever  before.  For  the  little  willing  exile,  the  child- 
missionary,  had  kept  her  promise,  and  come  home  at 
last,  leading  the  prodigal  in  his  right  mind.  They  fed 
and  clothed  him,  bound  up  his  bruises,  and  poured  llic 
oil  of  consolation  into  his  weak  and  wounded  spirit.  For 
he  li:s  1  liccn  among  thieves,  you  know. 

Little   .Mary, — grandpa's   Mary,   auntie's   Mary,   and 


438  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

now  papa's  Mary,  —  you  shall  wear  him  as  a  crown  of 
joy  and  great  rejoicing  in  that  day  when  the  Judge  of  all 
the  earth  shall  count  hie  jewels.  Little  Fossie,  thy  faith 
hath  saved  thy  father  ;  go  on  hoping,  and  trusting,  and 
working,  and  waiting. 

"Wallace  Lentell,  Groceries,  Grain,  &c." — that  is 
the  new  sign  over  the  old  one  where  Air.  Truemau's 
name  had  stood  the  test  of  many  a  storm.  "  Trueman 
and  Son,  Dealers  in  Dry  and  Fancy  Goods,"  is  the  sign 
overhead.  A  fine  establishment  it  is  now,  refitted  and 
refilled.  There  is  a  new  house  over  the  way,  almost 
finished.  Whom  do  you  think  it  is  for  ?  It  is  no  secret. 
Wallace  and  Susie  Trueman,  they  say,  will  live  there, 
and  Morgan  Lentell,  the  reformed  inebriate.  What  won- 
der if  he  is  proud  of  his  children  !  Only  he  has  no  rea- 
son to  be  proud:  pleased  —  that  would  sound  better. 
He  has  done  nothing  to  form  their  characters ;  other 
hands  and  other  hearts  did  that. 

Well,  he  is  grateful ;  they  are  all  grateful,  and  as  hap- 
py as  love  and  gratitude  can  make  them  in  this  fallen 
world.  Such  a  time  as  they  had  when  the  prodigal  re- 
turned !  The  Loverings  were  there, — all  of  them, — 
little  and  big ;  the  Truemans,  ditto  ;  only  one  baby  in 
the  family,  you  know  ;  that  is  Howard's  :  Mason  Giles 
and  family,  too. 

Aunt  Ann  "  s'posed  she  must  go  to  take  care  of  the 
pickanins,"  she  said,  with  one  of  her  grim  smiles,  which 
was  half  a  tear,  I  ween.  Aunt  Abigail  was  there,  with 
her  black  silk  dress  on,  and  a  pale,  sad  face,  softer  than 
it  had  been,  for  Simeon  was  dead  —  starved  in  the  South- 
ern prison-house  of  death.  That  was  the  hardest  of  it 
all,  she  said  —  he  to  starve,  when  the  house  was  full  of 


HAKMONY'S    DYING    WISII    ACCOMPLISHED.  439 

food.  The  hand  of  the  little  missionary  had  unlocked 
the  door  of  her  heart,  and  let  the  light  of  a  holy,  purify- 
ing love  into  her  soul.  A  little  leaven  will  leaven  the 
whole  lump,  perchance.  Levi  was  there,  too.  lie  and 
Abigail  smiled  at  each  other  when  the  child-missionary 
touched  his  arm,  and  whispered,  — 

"  Stop  here,  uncle,  please.  It  must  be  a  good  way 
off,  you  know.  Aunt  Hester  will  see  us."  And  she 
did  —  came  to  meet  them  ;  placed  the  ring  on  his  little 
finger,  the  same  ring  which  he  had  placed  upon  Harmo- 
ny's many,  many  years  before. 

"  God  bless  you,  Morgan  ;  in  the  name  of  your  sainted 
wife  I  bless  you  !  And,  now  that  you  are  freed  from 
your  terrible  bondage  to  drink,  I  welcome  you  td  our 
home  and  our  loving  hearts.  God  bless  and  keep  you, 
and  at  last  unite  you  to  her  who  loved  you  to  the  last. 
Come  and  receive  the  blessing  of  your  children  —  her 
children  and  our  children." 

Mr.  Lentell  stood  with  his  head  uncovered,  and  bowed 
very  low.  lie  was  too  much  affected  to  answer  only  by 
a  firm  clasping  of  the  hand,  which  had  so  often  minis- 
tered to  the  necessities  of  his  wife  and  children.  Little 
Fossie  did  not  dance  for  joy.  0,  no  !  Her  emotions 
Avrre  too  deep  to  be  expressed  in  that  way.  She  watched 
the  proceedings  with  a  calm,  deep  interest,  with  her 
small  hands  folded  tightly,  her  head  bent  forward,  drink- 
ing in  every  word  with  an  intensity  of  emotion  painful 
to  behold.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  a  tear  glistened  in 
Abigail's  eye.  Levi  was  much  affected.  He  opened  his 
strong  arms,  saying, — 

"  Little  Fossie,  come  to  uncle  :  you  have  done  it  all. 
l.lcss  you,  little  Fossie;  you  have  shamed  me  out 


440  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

of  my  sullenness  and  selfishness  ;  and  now  I  mean  to 
live  for  something  better  than  self."  Fossie  crept  into 
the  open  arms,  and  nestled  there,  saying,  — 

"It  is  God  that  has  done  it,  uncle  Levi ;  I  couldn't. 
I  am  only  a  little  girl ;  but  they  said  God  had  given  me 
a  mission  ;  so  I  went  to  find  it.  I  am  glad  I  did  —  0, 
so  glad  !  "  and  then  the  strong  emotion  of  the  child 
found  vent  in  tears.  Levi  patted  the  head  of  the  weep- 
ing child,  and  brushed  a  tear  from  his  own  eye,  impa- 
tiently. Abigail  was  distressed  to  see  her  weeping  so. 

"Don't,  Fossie;"  she  called  her  that  now — "don't 
crv  >  y°u  have  more  reason  to  laugh,  child.  You've 
done  us  good.  Aunt  Abigail  shan't  forget  ye  ;  and  ye've 
promised  to  come  twice  a  year,  and  help  her  and  uncle 
Levi  to  crawl  out  of  their  crusts,  you  know.  I  was  a 
crabbed  old  thing  when  you  came,  child,  and  should  have 
died  so,  only  for  you.  Come  and  shake  hands  with  me 
now,  and  say  good  by  ;  for  I  shall  miss  ye  as  much  as 
Hester  and  the  rest  on  uui  did."  Fossie  threw  her 
arms  around.  Abigail's  neck,  and  kissed  her  with  real 
affection. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  will  come,  auntie  "  (she  dared 
to  say  "auntie"  now)  — "  I  will  come  and  help  you 
and  uncle  Levi  about  your  mission." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Fossie  ?  "  said  Abigail. 

"  0,  I  mean  taking  care  of  poor  grandmother,  and  not 
minding  if  she  does  fret ;  she  is  so  old  and  sick,  you 
see." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  was  the  reply  ;  "I'll  try  to  bear  it  bet- 
ter :  good  by." 

"  1  shan't  hear  a  word  of  your  going  home  till  you 
have  tasted  of  the  fatted  calf,"  said  Ilester  ;  "  it  would 


CONCLUSION.  441 

be  too  bad.  Come,  get  right  out  of  the  carriage ;  put 
your  horse  into  the  barn  ;  I  will  send  a  boy  to  help  you.'7 
They  were  not  very  loath  to  stop  when  sufficiently  urged 
by  Hester  and  Martha,  joined  by  their  nephews  and 
nieces ;  that  was  how  they  came  to  be  there. 

"  We  must  be  careful  not  to  embarrass  them  with 
attentions,  or  slight  them,"  said  Hester  to  the  company 
before  they  entered.  Winnie  and  Howard  met  them 
cordially,  and  held  up  the  baby  boy  for  a  little  notice. 
Elida  received  them  as  old  friends,  and  led  them  to  her 
hero  husband  with  fond,  tender  affection ;  and  they 
looked  upon  him  with  reverent  pity.  They  knew  how 
brave  he  had  been. 

"  If  Simeon  could  have  come  home  in  that  way,  I 
should  have  been  satisfied,"  said  Abigail. 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  "  it  was  the  hardest  of  all  to 
have  him  starve  ;  it  was  a  cruel,  cruel  thing.  God  re- 
ward them." 

"  He  will,"  said  Abigail.  "  I  believe  in  future  punish- 
ment now  ;  it  must  be  true."  Wallace  introduced  Susie 
Trueman,  the  future  Mrs.  Lentell. 

"And  here  is  my  husband's  sister,"  said  Elida; 
"  Lottie  Gray  that  was,  Lottie  El  wood  that  is.  0,  there 
comes  Mr.  Elwood,  her  husband  and  our  minister.  He 
married  us,  —  Albert  and  me,  —  and  I  presume  he  will 
do  the  same  kind  deed  for  Wallace  and  Susie  soon,"  she 
said,  archly.  "  Now  I  think  somebody  ought  to  make  a 
speech.  This  is  a  great  occasion.  Come,  uncle  Levi." 

"I  am  not  clever  at  that  business,"  said  Levi.  "I 
can  hold  a  plough  and  drive  a  team  ;  that  is  about  all. 
Make  one  yourself,  Elida  ;  you  are  a  Sharp,  you  know," 
he  whispered.  Elida  laughed. 


442  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  I,  too,  think  some  one  ought  to  make  a  speech," 
said  Morgan  Lentell,  turning  to  Hester,  who  was-  stand- 
ing by  his  side.  "  I  want  to  thank  you  now,  and  here, 
for  making  my  children  what  they  are  —  for  doing  what 
I  ought  to  have  helped  you  do.  I  never  could  have 
done  for  them  what  you  have  done,  and  1  thank  all  the 
friends  for  their  kindness  to  them.  May  God  reward 
you  all.  I  feel  unworthy  to  call  myself  their  father. 
But,"  he  said,  "  if  God  will  help  me,  and  you  can  bear 
with  me,  they  shall  yet  love  and  respect  me  before  I 
die.  Some  time,"  he  said,  with  great  emotion,  "  I  may 
tell  the  world  how  this  child  "  —  he  placed  his  hand  upon 
the  head  of  little  Fossie  —  "sought  and  saved  me  ;  but  not 
now."  After  a  moment's  profound  silence,  Ilestcr  said, 
in  a  cheerful  voice,  — 

"  I  am  more  than  repaid  for  all  I  have  done  —  I  may 
say  we  ;  for  I  have  had  many  and  cheerful  helpers.  Yes, 
I  feel  amply  rewarded  for  all  the  anxiety  of  the  past ; 
for  I  have  seen  the  dying  wish  of  our  darling  Harmony 
accomplished,  her  faith  rewarded,  and  I  am  satisfied. 
Henceforth  I  have  little  to  do  but  lean  on  those  loving 
hi-arts,  and  rest ;  for  I  am  old,  now,  and  weary.  Lit- 
tle Fossie  promised  me  she  would  come  back  with  her 
father  before  I  needed  her  ;  and  she  has  come  just  in 
time.  But,"  she  added,  in  a  still  more  cheerful  strain, 
"  I  only  brought  home  four,  and  now  I  give  you  back  as 
good  as  seven  ;  and  seven  as  good  and  intelligent  chil- 
dren as  you  will  find,  I  don't  care  where  you  look. 
Haven't  I  been  successful?  Now  let  me  go  "and  see 
about  the  fatted  calf,  or  Martha  will  have  cause  for  com- 
plaint, like  Martha  of  old,  and  there  will  be  no  gentle 
Master  to  rebuke  her." 


CONCLUSION.  443 

"  She  won't  complain,  aunt  Hester,"  said  Wallace, 
"  so  long  as  she  has  grandmother,  and  Mrs.  Trueman,  and 
Mrs.  Gray,  with  others  of  like  stamp,  to  assist  her. 
Stay  ;  you  have  done  enough  for  one  human  being,  and 
done  it  well  enough  to  satisfy  j^ourself,  I  hope.  Let  us 
minister  to  you,  our  giiardian  and  friend  from  childhood 
until  now."  Grandpa  Lovering  appeared,  announcing 
that  supper  was  ready,  his  face  radiant  with  happiness. 
Mr.  Lovejoy  asked  a  blessing  upon  the  sumptous  meal, 
and  the  united  family,  and  all  present,  in  his  usual 
happy  manner ;  and  Mr.  Elwood,  the  young  minister  of 
the  parish,  returned  thanks  for  all  God's  goodness  to 
them  !  from  a  full  heart,  fervently  ;  and  then  the  company 
were  entertained  by  a  few  patriotic  songs.  These  chil- 
dren were  all  singers,  and  Lottie  Elwood  was  leader  of 
the  village  choir,  as  well  as  wife  of  the  minister. 

Fossie  listened  to  the  fine  tones  of  a  beautiful,  new 
piano  with  delight.  She  had  not  seen  it  before.  Grand- 
pa's room  had  been  newly  painted,  papered,  and  fur- 
nished with  great  care  and  taste  by  Winnie.  Elida, 
with  her  lesser  means,  but  no  less  loving  heart,  had 
placed  a  beautiful  book-case  in  one  corner,  with  a  few 
choice  children's  books  upon  it,  and  a  picture  of  "After 
the  Xap  " — three  lovely  little  girls  —  over  it.  And 
then  other  friends  brought  offerings  to  the  child-mission- 
ary. After  the  singing,  Wallace  and  Susie  led  Fossie 
to  the  instrument,  where  Lottie  still  played,  and  in- 
quired, — 

"  How  do  you  like  it?" 

"  0,  it  is  very  nice,"  said  the  child,  in  her  sweet,  quiet 
way  ;  "  it  sounds  almost  like  heaven.  Did  you  buy  it, 
Wallace?" 


444  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WO  UK. 

"Yes,  little  sister;  Susie  and  I  bought  it  for  you, 
darling."  lie  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"  Mine  !  "  said  Fossie  ;  "  why,  I  can't  play,  brother 
Wallace.  I  think  it  is  beautiful,  though  !  "  And  the 
little  white  hands  clasped  instinctively. 

"  Well,  you  can  learn,"  was  the  reply.  "  A  little  girl 
with  your  patience  and  perseverance  can  learn  to  make 
sweet  music,  I  know  ;  and  you  have  a  pretty  voice,  too." 

"  You  arc  to  be  my  scholar,"  said  Susie,  kissing  her 
tenderly  ;  "  and  by-and-by,  when  I  can  teach  you  no 
more,  Lottie  will  make  a  finished  player  of  you." 

"  That  will  be  nice  !  "  said  the  little  girl.  "  I  hope  I 
shall  learn.  And  grandpa's  room  is  very  pretty  —  isn't 
it?" 

"  This  is  to  be  your  room,  darling,"  said  Hester ; 
"yours,  dear,  while  you  wish  to  stay  in  it;  and  may  it 
be  long.  Your  father  shall  have  grandpa's  bedroom  for 
his  own.  You  have  brought  that  to  your  brother  and 
sisters  —  to  us  all  —  which  money  could  not  buy;  and 
it  was  fitting  that  we  should  do  something  for  you.  This 
is  one  of  the  reasons  why  we  consented  to  let  her  spend 
the  winter  with  you,"  she  said  to  Abigail.  "  We  wished 
to  surprise  her  ;  and  then  our  time  has  been  so  occupied 
with  fixing  Elida's  part  of  the  house." 

"  Likely  's  not  you  won't  want  to  come  to  see  us, 
Fossie,"  she  said,  "  now  you've  got  such  nice  things." 

"  Yes,  I  shall,  auntie.  I  like  nice  things,  but  I  like 
folks  better  :  I  shall  come.  And  you  and  uncle  Levi 
must  come  and  hear  me  play  '  Yankee  Doodle,'  when  I 
learn  it,  and  '  Star-spangled  Banner  '  —  won't  you  ?  " 

'•  Why,  yes,  I  guess  we  must.  Good  by,  little 
chick." 


CONCLUSION.  445 

"  I  want  to  send  something  good  to  grandmother/' 
whispered  Fossie. 

"  You  shall,  dear/'  said  Hester;  "and  I  will  put  up 
some  sweetmeats  for  uncle  Simeon's  children  —  poor 
dears  !  Abigail,  I  wish  you  would  bring  your  brother's 
widow  and  her  children  down  here  some  day.  You  must 
all  be  lonely." 

"  Like  enough  I  may,"  muttered  Abigail.  She  had  not 
opened  her  heart  enough  yet  to  take  Julia  in,  although 
the  children  were  gaining  ground  every  day.  They  were 
storming  the  castle  bravely,  encouraged  by  Fossie  and 
uncle. Lcvi.  Did  ever  the  children  fail?  No,  not  when 
they  had  fair  play.  Reader,  if  you  have  a  powerful  im- 
agination, you  can  get  a  better  idea  of  the  happiness  of 
the  family  whose  father  was  lost  and  is  found,  dead  and 
is  alive  again,  than  I  can  give  you.  Grandpa  Love-ring1 
rejoices  with  a  great  joy  over  the  prodigal  in  his  right 
mind,  as  well  as  over  the  reformation  of  Mr.  Giles. 

"  Elevia  is  as  happy  as  the  rest  of  my  daughters,"  he 
Bays,  with  a  quiet  smile,  saddened  by  the  thought  that 
Charles  still  sticks  to  his  eleven  and  four  o'clock  drams, 
in  spite  of  their  entreaties.  His  second  marriage  proves 
a  pleasant  one.  The  little  widow  Payson  spoke  truly 
when  she  said,  — 

"  I  shall  never  be  sorry,  and  I  hope  you  won't."  No, 
he  was  not  sorry.  She  was  a  treasure  to  him  and  his 
family.  They  didn't  mind  the  bustle  :  the  real  goodness 
was  there.  They  too  were  satisfied  ;  and  she  used  to 
say,  "  My  cup  runneth  over." 

Patient  reader,  a  little  mure,  and  I  have  done.     It  is 
autumn  ag.iin.     The  new  house  is  finished.     Wallace  is  • 
married.       JJis    father,    much    improved    in    health    and 


446  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIKE    WORK. 

spirits,  is  busy  in  the  store  about  such  things  as  he  can 
do.  He  is  calmly  happy.  Mr.  Trueman's  family  re- 
ceive him  as  a  sacred  trust  from  their  daughter  Winnie, 
who  lives  in  a  distant  village. 

"  We  will  do  all  for  his  happiness  that  you  could,  Win- 
nie," they  said,  when  she  lamented  leaving  him,  now 
that  he  was  found. 

"  I  thank  you,"  was  the  grateful  reply. 

"  It  ought  to  be  happiness  enough  for  me,  I  suppose, 
to  have  him  as  he  is  ;  but.  we  mortals  are  hard  to  please." 
Let  me  tell  you  that  Ann  Thropee  is  still  further  revised, 
so  that  you  would  hardly  recognize  her  as  the  hard-facrd 
woman  she  was.  Well,  she  has  been  several  times  to 
spend  a  few  weeks  with  Winnie.  "  I  s'pose  I  must  go 
and  sec  that  young  pickanin,"  she  said,  the  first  time  she 
went  after  Georgia's  birth.  "  I  wonder  w'at  I  must  buy 
for  'im." 

"  A  wheelbarrow,"  suggested  Master  Mason  Eddie  ; 
"  buy  him  a  wheelbarrow."  Ann  laughed. 

"  Well,  ducky,  I  s'pose  I  must.  He'll  be  old  'nuff 
to  w'cel  it  some  time.  I  wonder  w'at  them  carts,  sich  as 
rich  folks  cart  their  young  ones  in,  cost  ?  "  she  contin- 
ued to  Elevia :  "  I  mean  the  black,  shiny  ones,  with  tho 
silver  things  un  urn.  Winn's  good  as  the  best  on  um. 
I  want  'er  to  'avc  one." 

"  They  are  quite  expensive/'  said  Elevia,  "  but  very 
pretty  and  useful.  One  would  last  a  great  while  with 
Winnie's  care.  I  will  give  something  towards  it." 

"  You  won't,  then,"  said  Ann  ;  "  if  I  can't  pay  for't, 
she  shan't  'ave  it;  that's  all.  ;0w  much  be  they?  Can 
ye  tell?" 

"  0,  from  ten  to  fifteen  dollars." 


CONCLUSION.  :  44  T 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Ann ;  "  that's  cheap.  I'll  buy  'er 
one,  an'  put  the  w'celbarrer  inter  it." 

Mason  Giles,  with  his  justcr  views  of  life,  had  com-' 
pelled  his  father  to  do  Ann  partial  justice,  and  she  had 
all  the  money  she  wished  to  spend  now,  with  her  habits 
of  personal  economy.  Elevia  smiled  complacently,  as 
she  contrasted  Ann  with  her  former  self,  and  thought 
how  successfully  they  had  covered  the  skeleton  in  their 
house  with  the  mantle  of  charity,  until  it  had  become 
something  to  love. 

Ann  was  not  faultless  yet ;  but  she  was  being  moulded, 
slowly  and  surely,  into  the  image  of  Him  who  is  love 
itself*  She,  and  Mason,  and  Winnie,  and  Hester,  and 
all  the  Love-rings,  had  helped  in  the  glorious  work  ;  but 
the  little  children  in  the  house  had  done  more  than  they 
all.  God  bless  the  children,  and  finish  their  work  in  his 
own  good  time. 

One  more  call,  and  my  work  is  done.  Mehitable  Sharp 
Lentell  still  sits  upon  the  soft,  clean  bed,  with  her  Bible 
in  her  palsied  hand,  straining  the  poor  sunken  eyes  to 
find  something  to  atone  for  her  one  great  sin,  as  she 
says. 

"  Nabby,  I'll  go  to  heaven.  I  never  wronged  nobody, 
I  didn't.  I've  worked  hard  and  been  honest.  Say, 
Nabby,  shan't  I  go  to  heaven  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  marm.  Fossie  says  Christ  came  to  save 
all  who  will  repent.  Can't  ye  repent,  marm  ?  "  screamed 
Abigail. 

"  What  is  that  you  say,  Nabby?  Repent!  I'd  like 
to  know  what  for.  0,  hum  !  I'd  never  orter  a  married 
him  :  he  was  my  third  cousin." 

"0,  dear  !  "  sighed  Abigail.    "  Marm  !  "  she  screamed, 


448  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

"  don't  harp  upon  that :  they  marry  own  cousins  some- 
times ;  that's  nothiu'.  Think  of  things  you've  done 
worse' n  that  —  sins  against  God  and  yer  feller-men." 

"  You  lie,  Nabby  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  fiercely  ;  "  you 
lie  !  I  never  sinned  worse  'n  that.  What  if  I  did  put 
in  a  teaspunful  o'  laudanum,  instead  o'  ten  drops.  I 
wanted  him  to  sleep  till  the  will  was  writ.  That  never 
killed  him."  She  paused,  with  a  frightened  look.  "  It 
didn't  kill  him  —  did  it,  Nabby?  0,  hum!  hum!" 
rocking  the  witchy-looking  body  back  and  forth.  Abi- 
gail turned  pale.  Was  she  a  murderer,  then  ?  A  feeling 
of  horror  and  disgust  crept  over  her.  She  remembered 
her  kind,  patient  father  —  his  sudden,  mysterious  death. 
She  felt  faint  and  dizzy,  as  she  thought  how  her  young 
heart  had  been  steeled  against  that  father  by  her  mother, 
and  she  felt  like  shaking  her  by  the  arm  in  anger  ;  but 
she  thought  of  Fossie's  injunction,  of  Jesus,  and  of  God. 

"  Marm,"  she  said,  "  there  will  be  no  rest  for  ye,  here 
nor  hereafter,  if  ye  don't  repent." 

"I  tell  ye,"  said  the  old  lady,  "I  know  I  never 'd 
orter  married  him  ;  but  I  can't  help  it  now.  Don't 
bother  ;  I'll  do  well  enough."  With  a  pain  at  our  heart, 
we  leave  her  muttering  and  mumbling  over  the  Bible, 
spelling  out  the  words,  as  if  her  salvation  depended  upon 
that.  "0,  hum!"  we  hear  her  say,  as  we  departed, 
"  I'd  never  orter  a  married  him,  Nabby.  But  I'll  go  to 
heaven  for  all  that.  It  was  only  a  spunful  o'  laudanum 
I  gin  him;  that  didn't  kill  him,  Nabby  —  did  it  ?  Say, 
X;tbby."  Abigail  told  Levi  of  this  talk,  and  they  both 
shuddered,  and  looked  steadfastly  into  the  fire  tha' 
burned,  and  flickered,  and  flashed,  and  died  ;  and  FJ' 
they  looked  and  thought.  Levi  broke  the  silcncf 
saying, .— 


CONCLUSION.  449 

"  She  has  been  a  terrible  woman,  Abigail,  if  she  is 
our  mother  ;  and  we  were  following  in  her  steps" till  Fos- 
sie  came,  dear  child."  Another  pause. 

"  Ye  might  as  well  out  with  it,  Levi.  I've  seen  how 
it's  been  goin'  between  you  an'  Jule  this  long  time," 
said  Abigail,  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  I  shan't  stand  in 
yer  way  this  time." 

"  Shan't  you,  Abigail  ?  "  said  Levi,  taking  her  hand  as 
he  had  never  done  in  his  life  before.  "  Well,  I  am  glad  ; 
Julia  is  good  enough  for  me.  Simeon  loved  her,  and  she 
loved  him  as  she  will  never  love  me.  I  can't  expect  it. 
I  had  determined  to  marry  her  if  I  had  to  sell  my  half 
of  the  place,  and  leave  the  state.  Simeon's  children 
shall  be  my  children.  But  if  you  will  treat  Julia  kindly, 
we  can  be  happy  here  together.  And,  Abigail,  Julia 
would  like  to  help  take  care  of  mother,  if  you  will  let 
her." 

"  She  needn't,"  said  Abigail,  tearfully  ;  "  it's  my  busi- 
ness to  do  that.  Julie  is  good  enough  ;  she'll  do,  Levi. 
But  half  o'  the  property  ought  to  go  to  Morgan.  I 
didn't  think  marm  was  so  bad." 

"It  shall,"  said  Levi;  "I  promise  you  it  shall. 
Come,  go  and  tell  Julia  that  she  will  do  ;  she  will  know 
you  mean  a  good  deal  by  that.  She  always  said  that 
you  had  a  kind  heart  underneath." 

"There  is  sin  enough  in  it, "said  Abigail,  "if  that's  all." 

She  did  go  ;  and  now  the  children  climb  upon  her 
knees,  and  talk  of  their  dead  papa,  and  cousin  Fossie, 
and  the  kitten,  and  the  new  kite  that  uncle  Levi  has 
promised  them.  And  aunt  Abigail  makes  twisted  dough- 
nuts, and  round  ones,  and  turnovers.  And  they  pick  up 
the  apples,  and  help  her  peel  them,  and  pick  the  chips, 
29 


450  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

and  put  on  a  stick  of  wood,  and  do  a  thousand  little 
things  for  her.  And  if  she  cannot  bring  her  tongue  to 
say  "  dear  "  and  "  darling,"  she  calls  them  pet  names, 
nevertheless,  such  as  "  ducky,"  and  "  kitty,"  and  "  bos- 
sy," and  she  loves  them  well.  And  they,  with  child- 
hood's generosity,  return  the  love  with  interestt  Julia 
is  happier  than  she  ever  thought  it  possible  she  could  be 
when  the  sad  news  came  that  Simeon  had  starved  in 
prison.  0,  that  was  hard  to  bear !  Theirs  is  a  happy 
family  now,  only  there  is  a  living  skeleton  in  it. 

They  talked  the  matter  all  over  together,  —  Levi,  and 
Julia,  and  Abigail,  —  and  finally  the  Noyes  and  Atwood 
places  were  sold,  and  half  of  the  stock,  excepting  one 
horse,  and  old  Rosy,  Fossie's  pet  cow.  They  went  one 
clear,  bright  day,  a  happy  company  of  them,  as  many  as 
could  be  stowed  away  in  the  covered  wagon  ;  Abigail, 
and  Julia,  and  pet  on  the  front  seat,  three  children  on 
the  back  seat,  and  Levi  on  horseback,  leading  old  Rosy, 
the  cow.  Fossie  clapped  her  tiny  hands  gleefully  this 
time,  and  Levi  said  she  actually  danced  for  joy.  She  is 
looking  rosier  now  that  the  great  hope  of  her  life  is 
realized.  Hester,  and  Martha,  and  Elida  were  pleased 
with  Fossie's  present  from  aunt  Abigail ;  for  it  was  Fos- 
sie's cow  "  to  keep  always,"  she  told  Albert.  "  And 
you  shall  have  nice  new  milk  to  make  you  strong 
again." 

"  I'll  drive  you  a  load  of  hay,  Fossie,"  said  Levi,  "to 
feed  her  with  this  winter.  And  you  will  have  to  milk  — 
won't  you  ?  "  he  said,  quizzically. 

"  Why,  I  don't  believe  I  can,"  said  the  child,  sadly. 

"  0,  you  needn't,"  said  Elida;  " sister  will  milk.  I 
can  learn,  you  know." 


CONCLUSION.  451 

"  And  I  can  learn,"  said  Martha.  "  I  will  see  to  the 
cow  till  we  can  find  a  boy  to  adopt.  We  need  one  — 
don't  we,  Hester  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Martha,  I  think  we  do.  It  will  be  nice  to  have 
plenty  of  milk  ;  we  are  much  obliged  to  you,  I  am  sure." 
And  they  all  went  out  to  the  barn,  so  long  unoccupied, 
to  admire  old  Rosy,  which  was  only  three  years  old,  after 
all,  and  a  beautiful  creature. 

"  It  seems  like  old  times,"  said  Martha.  "  If  there 
is  any  creature  I  love,  it  is  a  cow."  Morgan  Lentell 
wept  when  they  handed  him  the  purse,  saying,  — 

"  Take  it ;  it  is  yours.  We  never  realized  how  much 
you  had  been  wronged  till  recently.  And  this  horse  is 
yours.  You  and  Wallace  will  need  it  in  your  business. 
I  want  to  see  your  name  on  the  sign,  too.  There  is 
money  enough  to  enlarge  your  business.  I  am  going  to 
trade  here  in  the  future;  don't  cheat  me  —  will  you?" 
said  Levi,  trying  to  laugh  away  the  tears.  Susie  came 
out  to  admire  old  Charlie  —  a  fine  beast,  fleet,  strong, 
and  gentle,  and  only  seven  years  old.  She  petted  the 
horse,  and  felt  that  she  could  gladly  kiss  her  new  uncle. 
It  was  just  what  they  wanted,  she  said,  to  complete 
their  happiness,  which  she  thought  was  full  before. 

"I  do  believe  we  are  the  happiest  people  in  the 
world,"  she  said,  putting  her  arm  through  Wallace's. 

"  No,  you  are  not,"  said  Elida  ;  "  we  are  ;  Albert  and 
I  are  the  happiest."  Abigail,  Julia,  and  Hester,  Elida, 
and  Fossie,  had  come  over  to  congratulate  them  and  wit- 
ness the  surprise. 

"  We  have  got  the  prettiest  cow  in  the  world,"  said 
Fossie,  "  and  shall  make  lots  of  butter  ;  for  uncle  Levi 
is  going  to  bring  some  hay.  And  if  she  ever  has  a  bossy, 


452  HESTER    STRONG'S    LIFE    WORK. 

like  the  one  she  had  last  winter,  I  shall  give  it  to  you  and 
Susie,  Wallace,  to  pay  for  my  piano  ;  and  papa  shall  have 
some  milk." 

"  Bravo,  little  Fossie  !  "  said  Abigail ;  "  you'll  do,  yet." 

"And  my  little  girl  shall  ride  with  father  often,"  said 
Mr.  Lentell,  with  emotion.  He  was  looking  back  ;  he 
was  thinking  of  Harmony  and  the  past.  "  0  that  she 
were  here  to  enjoy  our  property!  "  he  said,  softly,  to 
Hester. 

"  She  is  far  happier  than  we  ;  let  that  comfort  you," 
said  Hester. 

"  0  that  she  were  here,  so  that  I  could  ask  her  to 
forgive  me  !  "  said  Abigail,  mournfully.  "  I  believe  an 
evil  spirit  possessed  me  to  treat  her  so.  We  have  been 
blind." 

"  I  rejoice  that  you  now  see,"  said  Hester.  They  re- 
turned, and  found  Martha's  tea  waiting.  Fossie  played 
"  Yankee  Doodle,"  and  several  other  tunes.  Levi  said 
it  sounded  pleasanter  than  mother's  loom  used  to.  He 
would  like  to  have  one  of  the  girls  learn  to  play. 

"  Buy  her  something  to  play  on,"  said  Abigail,  "  and 
I'll  risk  her  learning."  Levi  and  Abigail  felt  relieved, 
now  that  their  duty  was  performed.  "  We  have  never 
felt  right  about  things  at  home,"  they  said  to  Hester, 
"  but  had  no  idea  Morgan  had  been  so  foully  wronged. 
Mother  talks  about  her  getting  the  writings  made  out 
often  now  ;  father  had  no  hand  in  it,  she  says.  I  am 
glad  justice  is  done  him  at  last,  so  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Hester.  "  I  respect  you  for  the  steps 
you  have  taken  ;  you  will  be  far  happier.  Let  us  be 
friends  in  the  future  ;  and  may  our  Father  in  heaven 


' 


CONCLUSION.  453 

bless  you,  and  lead  you  to  a  higher  life  and  a  better 
hope." 

\Vtillace  hastened  to  connect  his  father  in  business 
with  himself.  "  It  will  strengthen  and  encourage  him," 
they  all  said.  The  Lovering  farm  has  been  somewhat 
encroached  upon  by  the  steady  march  of  New  Eng- 
land enterprise,  and  the  quietness  and  romance  of  the 
beautiful  Merrimack,  disturbed  by  the  busy  hum,  and  stir, 
and  commotion  of  a  manufacturing  city.  But  the  old 
farm-house  has  bravely  stood  the  test.  True,  its  exte- 
rior has  changed  very  much  ;  the  poplar  trees  have 
given  place  to  shrubs  and  flowers  of  a  more  modern 
date.  "  Old  Tom,"  the  family  horse,  has  long  since 
gone  to  rest ;  the  cider-mill  ceased  its  grinding.  The 
"  river  road  "  still  abides  in  beauty  ;  but  it  is  less  cosy 
and  secluded  than  when  Harmony  and  Morgan  plighted 
their  troth  beneath  the  willows.  And  now,  as  a  pale, 
sad  man  walks  back  and  forth  under  the  shadowing 
trees  at  twilight,  his  eyes  rest  on  the  many  lights 
which  gleam  from  the  factory  windows.  But  he  is 
thinking  of  the  beautiful  light  which  flashed  *upon  his 
pathway  in  that  very  spot,  and  beamed  so  brightly  upon 
him  for  a  few  short  years,  and  then  went  out  in  such 
loneliness  and  neglect.  "  0  God,  "  he  murmurs,  "  for- 
give me  !  I  can  never  forgive  myself." 


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